


Development

by Lilyliegh



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: (and fears in general tbh), (sort of), Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Co-workers, Developing Relationship, M/M, Slight fluff, Teacher-Student Relationship, alternate universe - work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: Work experience student Fujiki Yuusaku finds himself in a new challenge as a temporary employee of the K.O.H. and under the supervision of Kougami Ryouken. Learning to hack and break into SOL Technologies' high security system wasn't what he expected his first mission to be.





	1. The K.O.H.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mido](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mido/gifts).



> hi mido!! i hope you like this fic! you requested fluff, and while there's some action/adventure too, i promise you there are many sweet moments!! also there will be six chapters to this fic, posted once per day so as not to bombard you -- think of it as a nearly-whole-week of datastorm joy! i had such fun writing this (and gosh i really miss datastorm in general) so i hope you like it!

Yuusaku tilts his head up towards the tip of the mountain. Its peak scrapes the clouds and its body tumbles and falls down to the bright, blue sea. He's seen this mountain plenty of times before, often when he's gazing out the window of Kusanagi's hotdog truck looking for the next customer. He never thought he'd go up the mountain, yet etched into the rocky side is a house with a balcony and walls made of glass. He can only imagine the breath-taking sight the owner must see.

He straightens the tie round his neck and adjusts how his lapels sit across his chest. His eyes narrow at the hairs clinging to his pants; he should have ironed and dusted them before he left. However, he's already at the door to his new work experience employer, so he hasn't the time to be rushing back and tidying himself up. Still, his hands turn sweaty as he marches up the side of the mountain and to the front door.

At the top of the mountain, the house appears even grander. There are walls not made of glass, but of sturdy stone. The building blends into the mountain, as if magical creatures carved it from the stone. A sturdy, wooden doors stands before him like a gate into an alternate universe. Chills run down his spine just standing at the entrance, so he knocks twice with the large, brass handle and steps back to await his future employer.

Not a moment later, a woman opens the door, dressed neatly in a dress shirt and skirt, height raised up by a pair of heels. She clicks them together, and then claps her hands once. "Fujiki Yuusaku, I presume?"

He nods, and then quickly tacks on a "Yes."

She bows her head to him. When she rises, her face is as bright as her red hair. "Dr. Taki," she says, hand on her chest. Then, just as Yuusaku starts to shuffle his feet wondering what he should do next, she beckons him in. "Come on, let's find a place to put your briefcase. I know this looks more like a house than an office, but ... well, you'll see."

She takes the words right out of his mouth. Ever since he started walking up the hill, he wondered just how this place could be his temporary employment. The question still sits in his mind as he follows her through the entryway and past an expansive living room and kitchen. Both rooms face the glass window, and past it Yuusaku sees the glistening ocean view.

Then Taki turns sharply down another hallway and Yuusaku sees rich, russet wallpaper. It still reminds him of a chic home, the sort of place nobility would live in. Paintings hang in wooden frames all down the hallway. None of them feature any pictures of humans, but instead are various futuristic designs. Then he sees doctorate after doctorate, award after award.

Taki peeks over her shoulder at him. "How was the trip here?" she asks.

"Not bad," Yuusaku says, unsure what else he can say. He lives closer to town, but he works at the hotdog van just at the bottom of the mountain. He's seen this house for years and never known that anyone lived there, much less completed work.

"Did you pick this placement, or were you assigned here? It's been so long since I was a student ..."

"Assigned." The faculty at the university would never give them a choice, not it they wanted to juggle a million options and specifications. The job market is already as slim as it is. Still, Yuusaku thinks that, if he had the choice and he knew this placement existed, he might have picked here. The atmosphere is peaceful.

He and Taki swing around one more hallway to find a single, brown door at the end of the path. Taki marches on ahead and taps the card hanging around her next to a blank space in the wall. He doesn't see anything hidden in the wallpaper, but some device lets out a short beep and the wooden door slides into the hollow wall, revealing a staircase leading down into the house.

"Oh wait," Taki says, swinging a card round her finger. "Probably should have let you used the card reader. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of opportunities to try it. For now, just know that here"—she smacks her hand against the wall—"is a hidden security device. Just tap your ID card to the wall and it'll recognise you. Here."

Yuusaku catches the plastic card in his cupped hands. No bigger than a playing card, it has his name in large, bold letters. In the corner are the initials K.O.H. He spins the card around, yet finds no chip or barcode.

"You coming?"

He shoves the card into his pocket and follows Taki down the stairs. As dark as it seemed up above, as soon as he descends down the third step, he finds himself in a surprisingly clean, bright staircase. Instead of paintings and certificates, there are pictures stapled onto clipboards of various scientists posing around tables and computers. In fact, it looks even homier than the upstairs in its own quirky way. Yuusaku feels like he's accidentally wandered into someone's private life. His eyes flick back to the door. Should he head up the stairs? Did they make a wrong turn?

Taki doesn't turn around, but she walks with fast, determined steps down the rest of the stairs and through several corridors.

Yuusaku feels like he's in the belly of the mountain by now.

Finally, she stops at in the middle of a large room. There are computer screens all around him displaying various graphs and webpages; some look detailed and professional, and others look like personal social media accounts. Where there are empty, black spaces, Yuusaku assumes there is wall, but instead he sees his reflection in the screens. There are monitors everywhere. Laid out ahead of him are several keyboards and mini-interfaces too. He tries to count the chairs and keyboards to see just how many working spaces there truly are, but his head spins the more he tries to make sense of the space.

Just where did he end up?

Fortunately, Taki interrupts his thoughts before he becomes too overwhelmed. She clears her throat and motions to an empty chair next to her.

"This will be your working space for today. No one really has a designated spot unless they're feeling particularly attached to a chair, so you're free to sit in another spot tomorrow. I've just got all the programs opened up for you here ..." She pats the chair. "Come sit."

He shuffles forward and takes a seat at the desk. The computer screens appear even more threatening up close; he's worked with monitors and technology before, but even what Kusanagi has—six monitors stitched together on the side of his van wall—looks like a child's handiwork compared to the advanced monstrosity of whatever lair he's wandered into. Carefully, he hovers his hands on the desk and the holographic keyboard materialises at his fingertips.

Taki clicks her teeth together. "So you're familiar with this sort of tech?"

"A bit."

"Familiar with the interface?"

"Think so."

He hears her grin from behind him. "How about hacking?"

The hairs on the back of his neck rise. He spins around, chair wheels screeching behind him.

Taki laughs outright. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't tease you, at least not yet—oh Ryouken, you're here. Come say hi to the new recruit."

Ryouken, as Taki refers to him, looks around the same age as Yuusaku—a surprise considering he's the youngest in his class. However, even with the youthful air to him, Yuusaku feels a seed of worry burrow in his belly. Ryouken's icy gaze clips him as he steps forward and stares down his nose at him.

And then he smiles—not much, merely a tuck of the lips, but a whole new feeling buzzes inside him, one that he can't put a finger to.

"Kougami Ryouken." He stretches out a hand, fingers open.

Yuusaku dips his head forward. "Fujiki."

"Fujiki  _ Yuusaku,"  _ Taki corrects. "The new student."

Ryouken hums under his breath and crosses his arms together. He looks like the manager or supervisor of the agency, and yet Yuusaku swears they can't be much older than one another. The question to ask burns on his tongue, but he holds it steady. Not while Ryouken is staring at him.

"You'll be helping him out quite a bit, won't you?" Taki says, tilting her head towards Ryouken. "Fujiki, I'll be your supervisor for this work experience. I'll be monitoring your progress and ensuring you meet mandatory standards. However, I'm .... quite bogged down by work right now, so Ryouken here will be helping me out. Don't worry, i've already received the permission from your professors. This won't affect your outcome, and hopefully not your experience, in any way. Think of it like a team effort—we'll all be helping you."

"That's fine." He doubts he could say anything different.

Taki smiles warmly though and claps her hands once more. "Well, if you're here, Ryouken, I'll leave you to give Yuusaku a tutorial. I'll be in my office if you need anything."

His ears prick at the word 'office'—isn't that where they are? But after Taki gives them a little wave, she wanders off down another corridor tucked between two black monitors and disappears. Yuusaku turns back to the screen before him. Reflected on its glossy surface is him, wide-eyed; and Ryouken, hands planted on the table and leaning just close enough that, when he takes a deep breath, Yuusaku feels his jacket brush against his own sleeve.

"So Yuusaku—"

"Fujiki."

"Last name? Sure. Fujiki, how much do you know about programming?"

"Enough," he says. He's in his third year of university; he should know enough by now. In the back of his mind, he wonders how much the K.O.H. know about him. Are they aware they are teaching a semi-proficient student, or do they think he's a bumbling first year?

"Do you know this program here?" He taps the screen with his finger and it flickers open.

"Yes."

"And this?"

Yuusaku nods his head. He learnt all that in his first year.

Ryouken chuckles, rich and deep. "How about hacking? You try any of that?"

He stiffens, shoulders arching up to his earlobes, How—

"Easy, easy," he says, rapping his fingers across the desk. In the next screen, Yuusaku sees Ryouken trying to hold back a laugh, yet his cheeks appear puffed and his eyes crinkled in the corners. He glances out of the corner of his eye, and Ryouken barks out a single, short laugh before he quickly smothers it with a fist and a sharp cough.

"Not the question I should be asking, I see. No big—"

"Do you?"

Ryouken blinks. "Hm?"

"Do you hack?"

"Sure."

Yuusaku swears the breeze answered for him. He strains his ears to hear it once more, but all he hears is Ryouken's rich laughter and the click from the computer screen as he selects a web page and opens it up. To his surprise, Yuusaku sees the familiar logo of SOL Technologies.

Ryouken reaches across him and swipes the keyboard to the side, shuffling it towards him. He settles it in front of him and begins to tap away at the holographic keys with practised ease. Yuusaku watches with rapt interest—he types so neatly, fingers dancing over the keys. He hardly notices the text across the screen until the black web page disappears, replaced by a scratchy, deformed image of the previous SOL Technologies home screen.

"You ... broke it."

"Hacked into their secure server and changed the formatting of their home page," Ryouken says. He slaps the keyboard back down into the desk, and once more crosses his arms over his chest.

"But you could have simply planted a bug in their programming," Yuusaku adds. He shrugs a shoulder and motions to the screen. "The programmer there will have this fixed in a few minutes; removing a bug from the system can take at least an hour, and that's if you know where to loo ..."

Ryouken smiles widely at him. "So you do know how to hack?"

"Not for that reason," Yuusaku says simply.

"I was just showing off. Here ..." Ryouken holds a hand over the keyboard, and once more the keys rise to his fingertips. He swipes the keyboard to Yuusaku, who catches it with practised ease. "Your turn."

Yuusaku glances from Ryouken to the screen, and then down to his hands. He's broken into servers plenty of times, but never just to mess around. To him, there must always be a purpose, a reason, a drive.

He glances up at the black screens.

With a flick of his wrist, he begins to type. His own style is an awkward, two finger type that is still successful, if not a bit jerky. But within a few minutes, all the screens around him flicker to life. A small, cheery alien dances around the monitors, kicking away the old social media webpages or graphs. Destructive yet efficient, soon the entire room glows white with empty screens, and the small alien stands before Yuusaku, clapping its hands together.

"Cute," Ryouken says. "Practical, but cute."

He ducks his head to hide the blush on his cheeks. Surely making a little critter bounce around the screen and knock away webpages isn't the most complex task.

"Did you learn that in school?" Ryouken adds.

Yuusaku shakes his head.

Ryouken slides onto the desk, pulling his legs up in front of him. Yuusaku feels his own body stiffen.

"Do you want to do something like that again?"

Again?

"You're a placement student here, and you're expected to do the work. But if you already know it, and I believe you do, then I have a suggestion for you."

He taps the keyboard with a free hand, bringing up several files tucked deep within the archives of the system. Yuusaku shifts in his seat. Should he be seeing this? Truly, he expected to work at some paper-pushing company that would ask him to sort files or add a banner to their homepage. Nothing new, nothing special.

On the screen is the image of a small, round duel disk. Yuusaku has seen them around the wrists of young children and youth. His own duel disk is a much older, boxier model, but this one is sleek, made of red metal with a large, black screen in the centre.

The screen glows to life with the image of an eye..

"What—"

"An ignis," Ryouken explains, "is a complex algorithm made to assist duelists with the virtual game Duel Monsters. You're familiar with it."

Yes, Yuusaku wants to say, but his eyes widen at the sight of the blinking eye. Since when has Duel Monsters ever involved something like that? None of the children or youth have a duel disk with an eye in it.

Ryouken stifles another laugh, rumbling deep in his throat. "OK, maybe only slightly familiar. But you are at least young enough to know what Duel Monsters is and how it's played in Link Vrains. Well, an ignis is essentially a virtual duel buddy. It helps you with moves and strategies."

Like an AI then ... maybe. Yuusaku has seen AIs before; they're quite popular in supermarkets, and rich families have robots controlled by particular AIs. However, the ignis seems different somehow.

"You're suspicious," Ryouken says. He bumps shoulders with him, and blood rushes to Yuusaku's head.

"I've just never seen it before," he says. "Must be new technology."

"Correct," Ryouken says. "Very new and advanced technology. In fact, it was created here, in this very laboratory."

Yuusaku tears his eyes from the screen and gazes around the room. Here? There's barely enough room for two people to stand shoulder to shoulder; the computer desks border the walkway, and the dim lighting makes it impossible to see where the door Taki left from is. He supposes there could be other rooms here, or even levels. How far could the K.O.H. have built into the mountain?

"But ..." Ryouken taps his fingers to the screen, and the image flickers. "The ignis is now in the possession of SOL Technologies. Not sure what they're doing with it, or how they plan to harness it, but considering they're the creator and maintainer of Link Vrains, I assume they want to market the ignis off."

Yuusaku leans forward.  _ And,  _ he wants to say—

"And so we're going to capture an ignis."

"Capture?"

"Exactly," Ryouken says. "If you want to pass this work experience class, Yuusaku, you'll have to capture the ignis. Taki and I will help you along the way, but think of this as an introduction to the hacking lifestyle."

A stone drops deep into his belly. Yuusaku swallows thickly. Hackers, secret base, hideout, names … a secret organisation of hackers and cyber-terrorists. He's heard of such people before. 

"Your school isn't that familiar with the Hanois, are they?" Ryouken says. "Well, they don't need to know our secret, just as we won't tell them how you locked all the social media accounts of every SOL Technologies employee across Japan. All right?"

The screens flicker on and off like faulty switches. He hadn't even checked the information; he'd just been trying to do something more productive than break the rival company's homepage, but—

Standing across from him, Ryouken looks like a white-haired demon who's spotted his next meal.

"Welcome to the Knights of Hanoi, Yuusaku."


	2. Desk Work

His mind spins in circles as he heads back down the hill. The Knights of Hanoi? A terrorist organisation? That wants him to join their team? It sounds unbelievably shady, not to mention wholly illegal and certainly not within the recommendations from his university. How could his professors have not known? Have any other students had this happen to them before? Are computer programming students often picked up by cyberterrorist organisations and brought along on top secret missions?

His luck is cursed. That's the only plausible answer.

He trudges back down to the bottom of the hill where the hotdog van awaits: a silver blocky vehicle parked on the dark, empty pathway. Bits of fractured moonlight reflect off its sharp corners, highlighting the hand-painted writing along the wall: Cafe Nagi, complete with a photo of a dog.

The stars are out tonight too. If Yuusaku turns his head towards the glimmer of light, he spots the ocean teeming with bioluminescence. Green patches tumble and disappear under the gentle, lapping waves. The bioluminescence seems to have gathered in a particular, straight line out to the moon which hangs low in the sky, its bottom scraping the edge of the water. The full scene looks like a picturesque landscape—too perfect to be real.

Carefully, Yuusaku climbs up onto the metal fence along the boardwalk. More than anything he'd love to walk across that water and touch the moon with his bare palm. It even looks possible: the bioluminescence makes such a clear, firm path. He should be able to walk on water like some omnipotent god.

He stretches his legs down, wiggling his toes. Even with the ten feet separating him from the glowing surface, he supposes that, if the water really is solid, he'll land on his feet instead of plummeting into the water. Does he risk trying it though ...?

He leans further.

"Yuusaku!"

He snaps backwards, banging his spine on the metal railway. Air hisses between his clenched teeth. Without a glance back, he pulls himself onto the metal bar and swings his legs over the side. Solid ground has never felt so boring before. New light has pierced the nighttime darkness, coming from the front door of the van. Kusanagi stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and grease and condiment sticks to the off-white apron tied around his waist. He shoves a hand through his thick, purple hair and sighs.

"What were you even trying to do there?"

"Nothing," Yuusaku says. He slips past Kusanagi and settles down on the first available chair. When the hotdog van is an actual hotdog van, there's barely enough room for two people to move around: the grill takes up most of the walking space. But now that business has closed, Kusanagi has tucked those away and opened up the hidden, slide-out section of the van: the computer station where he hacks into Link Vrains and explores various secret projects orchestrated by SOL Technologies. Today, it looks like Kusanagi has been examining the new patch information set to release next week, including several new character and map tones and various new deck styles and cards.

Yuusaku flops back into his seat.

Kusanagi presses a mug into one of his hanging hands. Weakly, Yuusaku fumbles his fingers to grip it, but sets the cup down on the table instead. Kusanagi sighs as he plucks the drink from the computer table and to the covered grill.

"No liquids."

"You eat dinner in front of your computer," Yuusaku says. He tilts his head back to see the screen: Kusanagi has all the current files up, spread out along six different monitors. They all have different aspect ratios and sizes, making the design look half-hearted and cheap. The design looks even more pitiful after having just left the Hanois’ rich abode.

Speaking of that ...

Kusanagi smiles widely at him over his own mug. "How was your first day of work experience? You look like you're ready to tackle another day."

"Interesting," Yuusaku says, twisting the word around on his tongue. "How much do you know about the Knights of Hanoi?"

Kusanagi's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "What're you talking about them for?"

"Came up in a conversation," he says.

"Some conversation," Kusanagi mutters. He takes a deep sip of his coffee and settles back in the other old computer chair. Yuusaku has always wondered how old Kusanagi is, but there never felt like a convenient time to ask such a question. That question alone seemed to add five years to his life.

"But I guess I know something," Kusanagi says. He taps his finger to the glowing screen. "The Hanois probably know about this too."

"SOL Technologies?"

"The Hanois love to mess with SOL Tech. I swear every patch that comes out has at least one or two glitches stemming from the Hanois' interference. I kinda want to root for them since I can't stand how SOL Tech micromanages Link Vrains, but ... but I'm not going out of my way to say I support cyberterrorism."

"Hm."

"But still ..." Kusanagi swirls his cup around in his hair. Light dances off the rim and reflects in his dark eyes. "Why were you talking about hackers at your practicum? You wouldn't happen to be hacking into any systems while at your _honest, reputable job,_ now would you?"

Yuusaku rolls his eyes. Across from him, Kusanagi chuckles and takes another sip of his coffee. They've shared this banter before: the duality of being reputable programmers and successful hackers. Then again, the most he and Kusanagi have ever done is find spoilers for SOL Tech's newest patches and dueling content; he's never broken the homepage like Ryouken did.

He knows when he's been caught though, and so Yuusaku shrugs a shoulder and says, "Maybe it came up in conversation."

Kusanagi wags a finger at him, smirk tucked in the corner of his mouth. "Wild child."

"And this?" Yuusaku taps his hand against the screen. "Honest, reputable work?"

"I was curious," Kusanagi answers. He pushes his chair closer to reach the screen and taps various keys on the small, grey keyboard. Unlike Ryouken and the Knights of Hanoi, he and Kusanagi have no advanced technology. Not only would it be too big to fit in the van, but they'd raise suspicions. As far as the general public is concerned, Cafe Nagi is a fast food hot dog van that supports local business and may have once sponsored a hotdog eating contest in Link Vrains.

Yuusaku finds it hilarious that Kusanagi lives down the street from the famous Hanois.

One of the monitors alights with a bright, cheery webpage of SOL Technologies. Featured on the page is the bold lettering of the company's logo, along with their mascot Blue Angel, affectionately dressed as an idol charisma duelist. The screen doesn't flicker or fade away with the aftereffects of the glitch, but situated on the sidebar is a live feed of SOL's Twitter account, with the top tweet reading: _Apologies for the technical error on our webpage. Our developers and coders have successfully addressed and resolved the issue. Please forgive our mistake and have a good day._

A dry itch settles at the back of his throat.

"This happened today too," Kusanagi says.

Yuusaku's eyes shift to Kusanagi. Would he figure it out? Does he doubt something in Yuusaku's story? How could he possibly ...

Kusanagi laughs outfit, tipping back in his chair. The corner of his eyes crinkle with mirth.. Yuusaku nearly leaps out of his seat in shock.

"I thought they'd caught me," he says through his smothered laughter. "I was on their webpage fiddling around, sneaking through the easy backdoor entrance to their private servers and the documents when the page _froze_ on me. I thought, _this is it, I'm trapped, I'm screwed, those guys are going to get my IP address and hunt me down and sent me on my merry way—_ and then the webpage kept on glitching and changing colours, and eventually it just shut right down. Can you believe it?"

Yuusaku forces a single, weak laugh. "Can't possibly."

"I don't think it was an experienced hacker, to be fair—when I looked into it, the lazy guy just snipped away some of the basic coding. Anyone with half a brain can fix that in a minute."

He swallows back more laughter. "R-really?"

"I would have embedded a virus, maybe even a trojan. Get those overpaid coders to really start working."

"Would have done the same." He takes a deep sip of his drink. Act normal, he keeps telling himself. But Yuusaku wishes he could laugh away at the situation. He even considers recording the conversation on his phone to show to Ryouken later.

"But anyways." Kusanagi clicks off the webpage with a single flick of his wrist. "How was the rest of your work day?"

How can he begin to tell him about that? What is there to tell except for the details of how he and Ryouken hacked into SOL Technologies.

"It's close," Yuusaku says, bouncing his shoulders up and down. "My supervisors are nice and friendly, and I have two of them ... I think."

"Sounds cosy there."

"Very," Yuusaku says, thinking back to the walk through the living room. Did he walk through Taki's house then, or Ryouken's? Is it both of theirs? Surely they must have lives outside of their work, but could he ask such a strange question to either one of them? He already feels queasy at the thought.

"Hey," Yuusaku asks, keeping his voice light and airy. "You ever heard of Duel Buddies?"

Kusanagi snorts. "You mean ignises?"

"Ig—"

"Those little, friendly aliens," Kusanagi explains. He holds his thumb and pointer finger away from one another to show their size. "About this big, no mouth. They were these rejected mascots that they wanted to market to young children: think virtual dueling buddy who helps you with all your plays. I think the project failed because they couldn't get the technology to function outside of the duel disk or something."

Yuusaku remembers none of this. He flicks his gaze from the empty screen to Kusanagi, searching for any sort of sign or clue. "Since when?"

"Couple years ago," he says with a shrug. "They're got dueling buddies nowadays, but it's downloadable software for your duel disk that's really just a voice change of your original duel disk AI."

"A ... I ..."

"Why though? You learning about AIs?"

"Yes," he says quickly. "Yes, studying duel disks. My employers are currently working on a prototype to send to SOL." Hands sweaty, Yuusaku tucks them behind his back. There's no reason for Kusanagi to be suspicious of him, and yet he feels like he's under scrutinous surveillance. A single slip-up could send him to the high courts to face the judge.

Kusanagi stretches his arms behind his back. The single window in the van shines milky moonlight onto his dark hair and tired, sallow face. His hands nurse his permanently-stained coffee cup. Yuusaku himself has spent more than one all-nighter at Kusanagi's place; that coffee cup remains for the entire night. Yet tonight, Kusanagi looks brighter than usual.

"What?" Yuusaku says when he feels Kusanagi staring at him for far too long for comfort.

"You look happy."

"Hu—"

"Looks like you had a great first day," Kusanagi continues. "When I saw you hanging off the side of the boardwalk, I thought you were at the end of your rope. But maybe you were just being reckless because you had such fun."

Cheeks burning, Yuusaku turns his head away. "I think you're sleep deprived."

"Maybe."

To change the topic, he quickly asks, "Do they still have those ignises, those alien AIs?"

"Getting out of the conversation?"

"Asking a serious question."

Kusanagi kicks his feet up on the desk and leans back in the chair. He sips from his coffee mug, and for a moment Yuusaku wonders if he'll answer or if he's fallen into a caffeine coma.

"I've never seen them, and I doubt they'll see the light of day."

An impossible mission then. Wonderful. He has no doubt that Ryouken is a skilled, versatile hacker, but if they don't even know where to begin to look, or if such software even exists nowadays, then they're more or less screwed. He supposes he'll just hack into other companies and toy with their coding: honest, reputable work experience.

"But if SOL Technologies did keep their failed work, I bet they put it at the bottom of Link Vrains."

"The bottom?"

"Highly guarded, and I doubt even a seasoned hacker like me could get past their firewall and defenses. But I know they've got some big storage vaults down there, and I bet that if SOL Tech wanted to hide anything from public _and_ private eyes, they'd stick it down there."

Still, Yuusaku feels the need to voice the question: "Where is the bottom of Link Vrains?"

"Come here."

Dragging his chair back up to the desk, Kusanagi types away on the keyboard. Instead of sneaking into SOL Tech's private servers, he instead simply has a dozen messy folders of various screenshots and documents from the company itself. How Kusanagi has compiled all this data by himself is beyond Yuusaku's comprehension—or how he knows where to find it when there is no organisation in sight.

The image he pulls up is of the single tower of Link Vrains. Encircling it are various islands, some of which are attached to the main tower, and others, much smaller, that float around the perimeter. There are higher and lower islands, all named after famous mathematicians. Yuusaku has seen this map all across Link Vrains. Yet the map he's familiar with ends with the Fire Wall: a protective barrier restricting duelists from accessing an uncharted territory.

"Seems suspicious that there's 'uncharted territory' in a virtual world wholly created by SOL Tech, huh?"

It does, but he never would have considered exploring it. As adventurous as he may be, he's not about to throw himself into danger just to solve a mystery.

Kusanagi is.

Further down the map are three lower levels. At a first glance, they all seem like regular islands found throughout Link Vrains; these areas would just be undeveloped and released at a later date. When he looks more closely, the names stick out to him: Kerberos, Orthrus, Tartaros. Not mathematicians, but Greek enemies and the location of hell itself. Of all the details to add to Link Vrains, why have a torture chamber ...?

"A prison." He licks his lips and tries again. "A prison for secret information."

"Bingo," Kusanagi says, tapping his fingers against the flickering screen. "SOL Tech hides their dirty work down here. I've never seen the area myself, but through some difficult means I acquired this map."

Ryouken probably has this map too.

But then ... does Ryouken expect him to go to hell and back to get the ignis?

"This is all top secret, all right?" Gone is Kusanagi's goofy, relaxed face. Dark circles are smudged underneath his cold, narrowed eyes. Lips pressed together in a firm line, he looks anything but content. Yuusaku knows the routine: share these details with no one, not even Ryouken. Ryouken probably has this information anyways.

The screen clicks off with a light _blip!_

"So have fun tomorrow, all right?" Kusanagi smiles brightly, albeit a bit forcefully, up at him. "Don't do anything you'll regret."

"I won't."

"And you staying the night?"

He glances out the window. Not a single star glows in the sky; they must have all fallen into the shimmering water.

"Sure."

Before he goes to bed, he counts himself to sleep.

_Three reasons to work with the Hanois: one, to learn more about Link Vrains and its mysteries; two, to gain experience as a hacker; and three, to learn under Dr. Taki and Ryouken's teachings._

A faint smile ghosts on his lips.

In a way, those two remind him of Kusanagi.

* * *

The next morning, the front door to the Knights of Hanoi lair opens with Taki beaming at him.

"I forgot to get you an access card, didn't I?"

Yuusaku nods his head. All he got yesterday were a bunch of unanswered questions that kept him up late last night. He stifles a yawn into his fist and ducks through the doorway, following Taki as she once more leads him down the labyrinth of hallways into the research quarters. His eyes search for familiar landmarks, but as peculiar as these quarters are, there's nothing that makes them stand out differently from the rest of the place.

"How was your day with Ryouken?" Taki asks.

"Good."

"Just good?"

"He gave me an introduction." Honestly, he'd call it a crash-course into illegal online activity, but he can't find a more positive way to phrase his first impressions. Still, Taki must know about Ryouken. She's probably a prolific hacker too, maybe even better than him.

"You'll be with him today," Taki continues. "I'll give you some paperwork to work through—think of it as a gentle introduction. Then Ryouken will take it from there."

He hums along.

Taki glances over her shoulder, eyes sharp. "That all right with you?"

"Yes."

She purses her lips together. "You don't have any questions?"

He has plenty, but it seems rude to ask his supervisor why she hasn't been caught by the police for illegal tampering of online documents. It seems even ruder to question the mission Ryouken proposed to him. That particular detail has plagued his thoughts all night. Even from his short conversation with Kusanagi, he knows he'll be venturing into the private domains of SOL Technologies. No doubt the company has kept the ignises under lock and key. And never once has he broken into private documents. Not like this.

"I can't help you if you don't ask them."

"What kind of paperwork will I be filling out?" He doesn't miss the coy smile on Taki's lips.

"This and that," she says, tossing her head from side to side. She doesn't elaborate as she taps her access card to the hidden panel in the wall. They descend down the stairs and through the hallways, the only sound between them the tap of her heels. All is quiet when they first arrive in the computer laboratory, and then Ryouken peeks his head around the corner. For some reason, Yuusaku's heart _jumps—loudly._ So loudly that Taki snorts into her fist and Ryouken raises his eyebrows and glances at both of them.

"Morning?" he says.

"A good morning to you," Taki says. She gives Yuusaku a slight wink and then head over to one of the filing cabinets. She returns with an access card dangling from a strap. "Your card, Yuusaku. Keep it in a safe place and make sure not to lose it."

He flips the card back and forth in his palm. Sure enough, it's his name in large, bold print. In the smallest print at the bottom right corner are the initials K.O.H. No mysterious details. No chip or barcode. The card feels weightless in his hands. He tucks it under his shirt and out of sight.

In the meantime, Taki has collected a stack of paperwork nearly the height of her. She wobbles as she carries it towards him, ankles bending from side to side.

"Today's work," she says with a bright smile.

Yuusaku holds out his hands tentatively.

Taki drops the papers into his awaiting arms.

He nearly topples to the ground. How—how can this all be for him? And for a day's work? All the papers must be equal to the number of reports he's written in his _entire school career._ His arms groan in protest.

"You can put those down, y'know." Ryouken motions to the desk behind him, adding, "That's your spot."

Yuusaku drops them at the desk, giving the papers a long, dirty look. Is this really what he's doing today? Yesterday he was hacking into SOL Technologies' webpage. Today he's filling out paperwork? He hasn't seen a single sheet of paper in this entire facility. Most documents are online and stored in high-security, password-encoded folders. It's been years since he's last seen proper white paper.

Spinning on her heel, Taki gives them a quick wave. "Have fun today, boys. I'll be in my office."

No introduction. No explanation.

The paperwork sits like a lion watching its prey.

"So?" Ryouken crosses his arms in front of his chest, staring down his nose. He looks dressed-up today in a suit and bowtie, but the soft pink dress shirt and undone blazer calms the look. Even though Yuusaku never saw him at the doorway, Ryouken looks like he ran into work and the sea mist tousled his white hair. It sweeps across his brow, dashed with violet streaks that he never noticed on his first day here.

"So?" Ryouken says again, this time bouncing his shoulders.

Yuusaku eyes the papers. "That?"

"The mission. Are you up for the challenge?"

He never thought he had a choice. All night he thought about how he and Ryouken could possibly steal an ignis, but he never thought about whether or not he had a choice in the matter. It seemed like the decision was already made for him.

"Not like you have a choice, but ... ready to get to work?"

He swallows back the sigh in his throat.

Ryouken still seems to notice. His bright blue eyes twinkle mischievously, and he saunters over to the desk. "I bet you thought this was a bunch of boring desk work Taki gave you, right?"

He thought, but he doesn't say so. To his surprise, it's documents he'd expect to find loaded on someone's private computer. Maps, detailed logs, documents, test results—all the work he can imagine, only printed out old-fashioned-style on white paper.

"Why?"

"SOL Technologies locks their files with bugs that can tell when you copy or transfer their work from one computer to the next. It's not impossible to remove, but it's a pain. Fortunately, they're so high-tech and fancy that they wouldn't even think of putting a bug that alerts the company when someone _prints_ their work. Hence this."

He can't help but hum contentedly.

"You agree?" Ryouken says. His soft laugh makes Yuusaku's heart jump once more, and though he's certain Ryouken hears it, he only receives a sly smile in return. "We may be creative here, but we're efficient."

"And this?" Yuusaku taps his fingers to the top of the stack.

"Files on the ignis: their location, research results, programming; we've got it all. There are even documents here about who worked on the project, not that that's important unless someone is coming after us."

"Are they?" Yuusaku can't help but ask. Not that he's scared of anyone, but it feels better to know if there is the possibility of having to leave the country and assume a false identity.

"'Course not." Ryouken scoffs, pushing aside various documents. He begins to sort them, and then blushes and sets them back—all but once which he folds and tucks in his pocket. "This is your work. Go through the documents, sort them how you see fit, and bring them back to me."

Vague orders, but he doesn't protest them. As boring as sorting may be, he falls into an rhythm of filing papers. Most of the documents are the research studies and results. There are maps of the facilities, but also larger, original designs for the construction of Link Vrains. Just like Kusanagi said, there is something located at the bottom of Link Vrains, but even on these maps, the area appears as a restricted zone.

What Yuusaku doesn't find are the _people_ Ryouken mentioned. He wasn't curious about it before, as he's not familiar with any of SOL Technologies' celebrity researchers or founders; he's learnt enough about Zaizen Akira from his classmate Naoki who always seems to know _half_ of the latest gossip in Den City. But even at the top of the reports, there isn't a single name noted for the creation or study of the ignises or alternative dueling buddies.

He peers over the stacked sheets of paper to where Ryouken types steadily at his computer.

 _Shouldn't disturb him,_ Yuusaku thinks. Perhaps the researchers aren't relevant to the study.

By the time he's done, Ryouken comes round to admire his handiwork. Even in the artificial lighting, his eyes sparkle and the apples of his cheeks are dusted rosy pink. Yuusaku feels like a zombie wearing another human's skin. But even he smiles at the arranged piles of paperwork.

"Good work," Ryouken says. "You ready for lunch?"

 _Already?_ Yuusaku wants to say. He feels like he just arrived.

Ryouken tilts his head towards the clock on the wall. "It's 2 pm already; felt like I should make sure you eat something today." Quickly, he tacks on a, "Not like I'm your dad or anything."

Truth be told, he never even thought to pack a lunch this morning. His whole day started out with waking up from an hour of sleep and throwing himself together in the back of Kusanagi's truck while Kusanagi himself prepared the hotdogs for today's lunch.

Ryouken seems to get the message, but rather than wander away, he motions to the stairs. "Let's grab lunch then. My treat for the hard work."

He pushes himself back in his seat before he can fully understand the question. "No—no thank you, actually. That's—that's kind of you, but I'll just work."

"Really—"

Sweat slicks over his hands and back. "It's fine—"

"How about I grab you some cookies from upstairs if you don't want to leave your work? And some coffee."

"Sure," he says. Anything to get Ryouken off his back for a moment.

The confused stare he gets from Ryouken is nothing short of saddening, but he heads upstairs and disappears behind the doorway. Yuusaku scans the perimeter for any sign of Taki peeking out of her office, but with no one in sight, he sinks back into his seat and lets out the breath caught in his aching lungs.

Why does he feel like he's swallowed two mouthfuls of salt water when there are stones already dragging down his lungs? Who knows. Certainly not him. But when Ryouken returns with his cookies, his stomach churns so madly he only takes a single bite in fear that he'll be sick all over the desk. And for the rest of the day he has to stare at Ryouken's feet or else his chest will explode.


	3. At the Bottom of Link Vrains

Ryouken drags his finger down the length of the map. "So you know about it too?"

Yuusaku nods his head. "The Link Vrains tower. It connects most of the islands together."

Ryouken nods his head. His finger stops at the barrier—the divide between the edge of Link Vrains and the unknown coding. Even on the map, it's a greyspace. Did they just never plan anything for this area? Is this their storage for old data? Or is there, as he and Kusanagi think, something hidden down there?

Ryouken jams his nail into the paper. "We're going here today."

"What's there?" Yuusaku finds himself asking. Did he misread a document? Does the grey colouring mean something?

"Who knows."

"Who ..." His brows furrow together. "You don't know?"

"We're going to find out though," Ryouken says. He pushes off from the desk; the paper slides with him, folding under his hand. He slips it into his pocket, and with one last smile, saunters off down the hallway.

Realising he was meant to follow, Yuusaku hurries after him. It's been a couple days since he came here, and every day is a new mystery. After sorting all the paperwork Taki brought for him, he's organised the piles into subsections: research plans ordered into various trials, maps arranged by their creation date; fine tuning of his original work. He spent yesterday comparing the results from the tests to the changes in the Link Vrains layout. Thus, Yuusaku expected to be venturing out at some time or another to the virtual duel city.

He never expected to be going to the secret, underground chamber.

"Not all the way there," Ryouken points out. "Just to the border. We should have a clear idea of where we're going before we capture the ignis."

"But we don't know it's down there."

"We don't  _ not  _ know either."

He can't argue with that.

At the back of the laboratory is another passageway. Instead of leading up to the main level, it leads to a holding dock for various cars, trucks, and high-tuned D-Boards. The sight of unexplored territory sends Yuusaku's heart racing—just how much more of this laboratory is tucked into the mountain? Are there endless levels like Link Vrains? Are there secrets in this building too?

Ryouken taps an empty space of wall. "Press your access card here."

He does.

The wall crumbles away to reveal the salty air and the crash of waves. Yuusaku rushes to the edge and peers down. He's at one side of the cliff. Even thirty or so feet above the waves, the resulting crashes spray water up to his toes. The salt clings to his lips. Cold wind catches on his cheeks. He shivers in his sweater.

Behind him comes Ryouken's rough laughter. "Not-so-secret entrance."

Yuusaku gazes over his shoulder. Do he and Taki enter this way? There's not a staircase or elevator in sight, unless one of those is hidden behind a wall too.

Ryouken answers the question as he mounts one of the D-Boards and zips across the room and out into the open air. He crouches low, knees bent, arms ready. An experienced rider. In Link Vrains, D-Boards are all the rave among young teen duelists, but in Den City, they're overpriced technology that hardly anyone but a billionaire can afford. No doubt Ryouken and Taki didn't pay the fee for these.

His eyes fall on the free D-Board propped up against the wall. He's ridden one in Link Vrains, but never in Den City. Would it be different? Either way, if he falls ...

Ryouken lands back in the room with a soft swish. His long trench coat flutters behind him like a regal cape. Once more, Yuusaku feels underdressed in jeans and a hoodie.

"You've logged into Link Vrains before, correct?"

Yuusaku nods his head. He reaches for his duel disk, but Ryouken raises his hand. "I have o—"

"I'll use mine."

He snaps his mouth closed. "Very well. But you'll need this card here." Ryouken tosses him a small chip that Yuusaku inserts into the side of his duel disk: a program package, including a map down to Link Vrains, as well as a camera and diagnostic tool to help him collect ... evidence?

"I thought we were going  _ to  _ the barrier ..."

"Or just beyond it," Ryouken says with a shrug of his shoulders.

Already Yuusaku feels his palms begin to sweat.

Slipping by him, Ryouken taps his hand to a large, silver platform set on the side of the room. Among the various bikes, Yuusaku hadn't seen the empty space for what it truly was, but now he gazes with wide eyes. A transporter to Link Vrains. Kusanagi has a much smaller device in the back of his van; to an outsider, it looks like the entrance to a bathroom or storage closet. But this transporter is massive, with the device hanging above the platform like a chandelier.

He follows Ryouken onto the platform and keeps his arms at his sides.

"You've been into Link Vrains before, correct?"

Yuusaku nods his head.

"See you on the other side then."

He hears the click of the generator, and then white noise fills his ears. Every colour in the rainbow dances before his eyes, and when he can see clearly again, his breath whooshes out of his lungs. It's been a few days since he last toyed around in the virtual dueling city of Link Vrains, but still the detail and design impress him. He's been transported to a quieter grove set along the river flowing through the island. In the distance is the murmur of the lively town square, the central meeting place where many duelists hang out for the evening.

Ryouken taps him on the shoulder to get his attention. "You still with it?"

"He ..." The rest of the words don't make it out of his lips. In his Link Vrains avatar, Ryouken looks much more menacing—and not only that, but he looks like the leader, he looks like ...

"Revolver."

"You didn't put two and two together?" Ryouken says with a laugh. "I guess my avatar doesn't resemble me too much, but if I was a Hanoi, and the co-leader, you would think ..."

He would think, Yuusaku tells himself, but he never thought that his co-supervisor would be the  _ leader  _ of the Knights of Hanoi. He thought Ryouken was merely a subordinate. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense: his confident air, his status, his expertise. If anyone could hack into SOL Technologies, it would be the leader of the infamous cyber-terrorist organisation.

Yuusaku swalls the grit in his throat.

"Nice design, by the way," Ryouken adds.

Heat rises to his cheeks. As Playmaker, he looks more like a children's comic book superhero than a leader or any respectable duelist. Back in the day, he used to duel under the alias "Unknown," but he's since dropped that persona in favour of a quieter lifestyle in Link Vrains. If he could port his consciousness to Link Vrains and live away in a little hut off from the main islands, he would.

Ryouken clicks the button on the side of his duel disk and hops up onto his D-Board. Though it's the same one as he used back in Den City, up close Yuusaku sees the strong engines tucked underneath the sleek frame.

Ryouken spots it too. "Can your board get away?" he asks.

Yuusaku clicks his own board on. While it's thin and agile, the engines are small and sputter from time to time. Just like his duel disk, it's secondhand and in decent-enough condition—but in the event of a wild chase, he'd be left in the dust.

Ryouken clicks his teeth together and hums under his breath. "Don't worry, we'll be fine," he says instead. He shifts his board from side to side, tipping it to test its flexibility and drive. Yuusaku hops onto his own board. It hums under his feet, adjusting as he tilts his weight. 

Then they take off. Ryouken shoots forward first, over the side of the river and down to the water. Yuusaku dives with him, skimming the bottom of his board along the surface. Water splashes on his toes and ripples behind him. He shifts his feet and crouches low, catching the wind against his ears and hair. Unlike Ryouken, with a half-functioning helmet to his design, Yuusaku's VR form is little more than a dark green skinsuit. It keeps him warm and helps him speed away, but the wind tugs at his eyes and cheeks. He drives behind Ryouken, staying close in his slipstream to avoid the wind currents.

Glancing over his shoulder, Ryouken laughs. He slows down and moves to the side, riding parallel. The helmet makes him seem taller and more imposing, but behind the mask he smiles.

At the end of the river, the island drops off to the endless, empty space. Normally, there are islands floating to hop along, but where he and Ryouken have materialised is a blue void of artificial sky. Above and below them are islands hooked along the tower. At the very bottom of the tower he sees a thick blanket of clouds. But they pass through the clouds, further and further down. He's never wandered so deep into Link Vrains before, and on a map it looked smaller. But they travel until Yuusaku's calves begin to ache.

"We'll be approaching the security gate soon," Ryouken suddenly explains. "Be on the lookout for patrols. Don't shout at me, but tap here." He pats the top of his duel disk. "I'll get the alert before I make sense of anything you try to shout over the wind. And remember, if there is trouble, run. I'll deal with it."

Heroic, Yuusaku thinks. But he nods in agreement and tucks behind Ryouken. They slow their descent as they approach the next clump of clouds. Rather than passing through it, Ryouken slows to a halt and stops just above it. Wisps brush against the bottom of his board; yet when he gazes below, Yuusaku sees a thick mass of white fog.

Carefully, Ryouken holds out his hand and sweeps it to the side. Cloud tumbles away to reveal a thick, metal band. There are no screws or labels on it, no way to get in and tinker with it. As Ryouken clears more of the ring, Yuusaku sees that it stretches far—around the entire perimeter of Link Vrains. 

"There's nothing outside of this here barrier," he says. "They just haven't expanded Link Vrains yet. But beneath this barrier, that's where they've hidden something." He brushes the rest of the clouds away; purple sparks dance from his fingertips. An ability, Yuusaku wonders. He's never seen such a power before.

Ryouken dips his board down into the cavity made in the clouds. He jumps from his board onto the barrier with a dull  _ thud! _

Yuusaku's heart leaps into his chest. The security—

"Won't activate unless you tamper with it," Ryouken says, smiling up at him. "But then again, if they never figure out we tampered with it ... Come here, Yuusaku, I'll show you something."

He drives his board into the cavity with the carefulness of a doctor performing a life-threatening operation. Everywhere Yuusaku looks, he feels like he could get caught, get hurt. He's never been much of a risk-taker unless the hero act called for it. He  _ especially  _ doesn't like fiddling with dangerous technology that could react to them. He's seen the results before: personally, and peripherally.

None of these concerns seem to faze Ryouken as he taps his hands along the metal barrier, as if searching for some secret lid that'll pop open and reveal all the hardware. Yuusaku crouches down next to him. Are they looking for a hidden door, or a special button?

_ Clunk. _

"Here." Ryouken digs a nail into the hairline crevice in the metal and pops open the small control panel. "SOL Technologies  _ loves  _ their codes," he says, "so even in their most secure devices they'll add one of these."

"And the code ..." Yuusaku asks.

"Don't need it."

He jams his hand down on the panel and it surges to life. Like the wind he created from his palm, the barrier glows like a lighthouse beacon. The little code panel flares: "WARNING! WARNING!"

Then Ryouken presses a single key, and the panel shuts down. The light disappears, and the barrier whirls down from its high-speed processing. It hums beneath their feet once more. Ryouken slips the lid back onto the device and neatly rearranges some of the clouds above it. Then he hops onto his board and motions for Yuusaku to do the same.

Yuusaku gazes from Ryouken to the panel, and then back to Ryouken.

"Maintenance code," Ryouken explains. "The researchers used them when they were constructing this place. Sometimes, you have to test the warning button. It'll show up at SOL Tech's headquarters, but they won't think anything of it unless someone looks into a random security check—and by the time they do, we'll be long gone."

He blinks, but a question still remains in his mind. "Where'd you find that code?"

Ryouken tips his board forward, off the edge of the barrier, and into the clouds. Yuusaku shoots forward after him, body tensing for the resulting shock. But it never comes. He tumbles through the clouds and breaks out in a large, metal chamber. There's not a slice of blue sky or sunshine in sight; the only light comes from the yellow panels along the wall. Though they extend deep into the cavern, it grows darker the further he gazes.

The bottom of Link Vrains.

A zap of electricity cuts across the chamber like a great, glowing serpent. Yuusaku's breath hitches in his chest, and on instinct his board rises up towards the clouds.

Once more, Ryouken seems unfazed. He glides along the perimeter of the chamber, occasionally tapping his hands on the walls. The dull echo feels like nails running down Yuusaku's spine. He's never been claustrophobic, but here, trapped, with the electric serpent bouncing from one wall to the next, he feels like someone has squeezed his windpipe shut.

Ryouken doesn't wait for him to move, already wandering through the chasm. He talks loudly and openly, gesturing to various sections of the wall. Yuusaku trails slowly behind him. With each zap of electricity, his heart twists into an even tinier ball.

"You think it would be at the bottom?" Ryouken asks.

"Probably ..."

Ryouken laughs, but snaps his mouth closed as an electric current runs right in front of him, inches from his nose. 

"Be careful of these," he says. "You won't die, and I'm not sure if they're a precaution of not, but they're not friendly either."

Obvious.

But they travel further down into the chasm for who knows how long. Without any distinguishing markers on the walls, Yuusaku feels like he's travelled for hours. His body feels paralysed down here. The air tastes wrong. His breath sets his teeth on edge; every noise catches him off-guard. And Ryouken remains calm, cool, and collected, weaving from side to side on his board.

Finally, Yuusaku sees something at the bottom. It looks like land at first, but as he approaches, he sees another barrier, this time guarded by a strong, electric field. Attached to the wall is a small, silver box—the controls to the barrier, most likely. As much as Yuusaku hopes that this will be as simple as re-wiring the barrier and slipping through, a glance to Ryouken's scrunched face says otherwise.

"I've never seen that before ..."

"The box?"

"No, the barrier ..."

Worry seeps into his veins.

"The ignis must be just past that." Ryouken talks to himself. He snaps photos of the barrier and box, and then to the empty walls of the chamber. Yuusaku tilts his head back, but from this distance he can no longer see the cloudy roof. They've wandered so far down without being caught ...

_ Zap.  _ A small, wiggly serpent crawls through the open air, no bigger than his finger. Yuusaku's eyes widen, but he remains still. It's not after him. It can't hurt him—

It springs forward and lands on his board. Yuusaku swings his foot back to kick it, ready to knock it into the wall, ready for the small zap, when he feels empty air on the soles of his feet. His board—his board is gone, the electric serpent too, but he tumbles down, far and fast, and hits the barrier below with a loud crunch, from his bones or the metal, he doesn't know—

And then he feels the electricity on his skin.

He screams.

White-hot electricity runs up and down his body, tearing at his arms and legs, pushing his head down into the barrier. He tries to pull himself away, but ropes bind him to the barrier that seems ready to  _ consume  _ him. Panic bursts in his mind. He can't—he can't move, can't even scream—

Someone yanks his arm, and the pressure of fingers on his wrist brings tears to his eyes.

_ "Alert, alert! Danger, danger!" _

_ "Hold him still, bring him here!" _

_ He writhes back and forth, screaming for anyone to hear him. The world is black under the helmet, and his hands shake too much to get it off. Everywhere hurts; everything wants to hurt him. The tinny voice in the helmet keeps screaming “DANGER!" at him, but that only makes it worse. _

"Yuusaku, Yuusaku—"

Hands on his wrist. Hands on his head.

_ Electricity courses through his veins. He can't get the helmet off. He can't run. He can't move. _

"Yuusaku, look at me—"

He comes to with a sharp, gasping breath. Twinges of the electric current run up and down his arms, but when he tries to move them, his body feels rigid and frozen. He can't even scrunch his face. He tries to bend his fingers, but they don't move either. He tries to gasp again, but the breath catches in his lungs.

He can't breathe.

"Yuusaku," someone keeps saying. "Yuusaku, you're OK. You're out of there."

Out of where? OK from what? He can't speak or breathe—

The helmet.

_ His head feels like it'll split in too. He can't pull the helmet off his head, can't stumble out of the doorway. He falls on the ground, legs catching over themselves. He coughs and coughs, trying to get a decent gulp of air in before his vision grows an even fuzzier shade of black. _

_ Something grabs his head—no, the helmet—and pulls it off. Yuusaku screams as the light pierces his eyes. _

Light.

There's no helmet on his head. No light in his eyes. The pain is there, but duller, ebbing at his hands and feet, fingers and toes. His lungs hurt most of all, and the next breath he takes has him retching. Someone pushes him to the side and he coughs until he can suck in a proper, albeit chalky, breath.

"I'm here with you, Yuusaku. It's Ryouken. You're safe."

He blinks his eyes once, twice, thrice.

Where is he?

Kneeling next to him is Ryouken, dressed in his usual business-wear. He would look calm, cool, and collected were he not sweating buckets and gasping like a fish out of water. His wild, blue eyes look wet, and when Yuusaku makes even the slightest groan, Ryouken pinches his hand.

"You're here, back at the laboratory. Dr. Taki is here too."

Taki waves at him. "Right here too, Yuusaku."

He tries to shake his head, but it hurts to simply  _ think  _ about twisting his head, and so he lies still and tries to re-orient himself with his surroundings—only even that seems like a feat of strength for suddenly his chest rises with a great heave and panic fills his veins once more,  _ wait what's happening where am I what's going on— _

"Yuusaku!"

The voice sounds so far away, like he's locked away in a dungeon and the voice is coming from the safety of the surface. His vision briefly darkens—does he have his helmet on? Is he back there? He can't feel the electricity on his skin, but soon, soon he'll be twisted over and screaming in pain.

The next time his vision explodes, he sees Taki first. She squeezes his hand several times, and this time Yuusaku's mind focuses hard on the feeling of a thumb pressed into his palm. Again and again, she pushes down into the centre of his hand, and each time, his mind registers the feeling. Slowly, he hears Taki mumbling something to him, something gentle and soothing—

Hand.

Yuusaku yanks his hand away, pressing it up against his chest. He coughs out his next breath and gazes round the room. He's still in the laboratory, and both Taki and Ryouken are still around him. They look just as worried as they are before, but this time neither of them touch him. They settle back on their haunches, waiting for him to move.

It almost feels worse that they  _ aren't  _ doing something.

In the corner of his eye, he spots his backpack lying where he left it earlier this morning; for all he knows, it could still be morning and time passed faster in Link Vrains. But he doesn't dawdle on such thoughts. He pushes himself up onto his shaky legs and stumbles towards the backpack. Every sensation bombards his mind; the world feels like too much.

Ryouken doesn't say a word.

Taki shuffles her feet from side to side. "How about I call a cab ..."

"It's fine," Yuusaku says. "Fine. I'm ..." Unsure how to end the sentence, he heads back up the stairs, around the bends, through the hallways. The path home seems longer than it ever has, and around each corner he expects his heart to give out and some great, electric beast to pin him to the wall and zap him under his brain melts. It never happens, but even when he gets home—not even to Kusanagi's van, but to his small apartment in the old brick building—he feels like he's one or two breaths short and his mind is hanging off the edge of a cliff.

The next day, he doesn't even dare go back to the Knights of Hanoi. 


	4. Ride It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a day late---i didn't have internet for the day ;w; but this fic is back to posting! :3

On the first two days after the incident, no one calls him. He calls Kusanagi once to say he won't be able to work today, and fortunately Kusanagi doesn't ask any questions. He's learnt better too. More than once he picks up the phone to try and call Ryouken and Taki and explain the situation, but each time his throat turns dry and his heart races, and he ends up throwing the phone on the couch and spending the next hour riding out the anxiety.

He can't call them. Can't explain why he broke down at the bottom of Link Vrains. Can't listen to them make excuses for him, how they understand how he feels, how they want him to keep missing experience hours until he feels better. He wants none of their sweet words and soft forgivings, but he also doesn't want to face any other confrontation. He wishes the problems would magically fix themselves.

But they don't.

He spends two days feeling sorry for himself, and on the third day, Taki calls him. The first time she calls, he lets the message run to his voicemail. She leaves a message, sweet and understanding and asking him to please call them back soon so they can discuss hours and details. While kind, it's still formal; after all, she's his supervisor. The next message is firmer and simply just about him getting back to her before the end of the week.

It's Saturday now. Midday too. The bright sunlight in his eyes tells him he has just an hour to go until his shift starts with Kusanagi. He's missed three shifts now, and while he can continue to pretend his work experience with the Hanois is a fever-dream, he can't let Kusanagi do all the work. He at least owes Kusanagi a day's worth of work, especially on a busy Saturday.

Slowly, Yuusaku throws himself together. He hasn't stayed in bed all day, but these past few days he's hardly left his barren house. His one-bedroom flat is already crammed enough: there's just enough room for a bedroom and bathroom, and a small, rickety staircase up to the attic. His kitchen hangs off the side of the bedroom. Strewn around the floor are various sweaters and blankets that he's wrapped himself up in. A single take-out container lays abandoned on a cardboard box functioning as a side table.

He stumbles to the kitchen and peeks inside the fridge. No food, not even a single snack. He'll ask Kusanagi for some leftovers to reheat.

Once out the door, the warm sunshine seems colder, and the wind blusters past his cheeks. He fixes his scarf wrapped around his neck and chin, pulling it up over his nose. He snuggles deeper into his jacket, and once all visible skin is hidden, he trudges down the road and to Kusanagi's hotdog van. He lives neither close nor far, but in the cold, autumn air, the trip feels especially longer. Having been housebound for several days, his limbs feel stiff from lack of movement. He hardly ate or drank either; he can't remember the last meal he had.

Fortunately, as soon as he arrives as Kusanagi's doorstep, the first thing he's offered is food.

"Jeez, Yuusaku, you look terrible!"

Before he can reply, Kusanagi grabs him by his jacket hood and pulls him inside. He stumbles into one of the desk chair crammed into the front of the van, out of the way of the cooking station. As soon as Kusanagi lets go of him, he reappears with food shoved in Yuusaku's face: a single hotdog, just bun and meat.

"This better not be the only thing you eat today, all right? I'll warm you up some soup in a moment."

"Coffee," Yuusaku murmurs, voice weaker and creakier than he imagined.

"Eat." His words leave no room for arguing.

Sighing, Yuusaku takes a small bite. It's warm and fresh off the grill. Not until he's devoured over half of the hotdog does he realise just how hungry he is.

Kusanagi passes him another plate, followed by a mug of black coffee. Yuusaku pushes the last of the first hotdog into his mouth and washes down the bread with a swig of coffee. He goes to bite into the next one, but the sight of Kusanagi's cloudy eyes stops him.

"What?" he says.

"You know what."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But you'll tell me the truth: that something happened at least. That you're not just depressed."

"I don't know." He chomps off the next bite of food, and then another. How hungry can he possibly be? He almost considers asking for a third one, but Kusanagi probably wants him to eat something more than bread and meat, like broth or a glass of milk. Something.

"Fine with me," Kusanagi says. "You want to work though? You look like you could sleep the weekend away."

He's slept all week away; he hardly needs another night's rest. If anything, he needs something to distract his mind—something menial and repetitive like flipping hot dogs or pouring coffee.

Naturally, Kusanagi understands. "Shift starts in fifteen minutes then. Apron's hanging up, grills are all on. At two o'clock I have to call my brother so you'll be by yourself for a couple minutes, but then after that you can have a break—"

"I want to wo—"

"A  _ break,"  _ Kusanagi repeats. "And then we'll close up tonight. Got it?"

He wishes he could start now. He itches to get up and move, and when Kusanagi finally tells him to open the shop window and take out the menu signs, the first spark of light glows in his chest. From then on, he finds himself lost in the rhythm: take order, make order, serve order; rinse and repeat. Occasionally modify order or answer questions, but it hardly breaks the rhythm. He's desperate for more work; when it's quiet, he finds anything to clean in the van.

At two o'clock, Kusanagi leaves to calls his brother. Yuusaku relishes the extra work. Falls into bliss in having to do more to take his mind off work.

"Yuusaku?"

Until Ryouken appears. He stands out like an idol among plebeians, dressed to the nines in a rich, white suit with a crisp, pink dress shirt. His black shoes are far too shiny for someone who walked down the hill to greet him. He never thought Ryouken of all people would be into cheap street food, but he orders without even a glance at the menu and pays with exact change.

Yuusaku stares at the money in his open palm. Then back up at Ryouken.

"How are you?"

He bristles. There's a hidden question behind those benign words; he knows it.

"Good," he says, voice clipped. "You?"

"A bit tired," he says. "There's a lot left to do for that project of ours."

He glances away, but there's no one else in line to focus on. He's here, alone, with Ryouken. Yuusaku even likes Ryouken but now he feels sick to his stomach. He jerks around and begins to make the order, spooning chili over the hotdog and bun, pouring the coffee, stirring the milk. A bit splashes on his wrist and he hisses. When he turns around, he forces his expression to remain neutral—not happy, but not pained either—as he passes the food.

"How about we talk?" Ryouken asks. "Later, if you're available."

Later sounds like a invitation to say 'next week,' and so he opens his mouth to do just that—

"Yuusaku, you're on break!" Kusanagi calls, reappearing from the back of the van. He slips his phone into his pocket and slides next to Yuusaku at the shop window of the van. His eyebrows rise into his hair when he spots Ryouken. Then he smiles. "Well it's strange to see you here today."

"Too lazy to make breakfast."

Yuusaku glances from Kusanagi to Ryouken, and then back to Kusanagi.

"A regular," Kusanagi explains, "only he's typically here during the week while you're in classes."

"When I'm not teaching Yuusaku, that is," Ryouken says.

"I forgot!" Kusanagi slaps his forehead and lets out a comically-large breath. "You work up in that house, just were Yuusaku's work is. Just didn't put two and two together there."

The more they talk, the sicker Yuusaku feels. They—they know each other? Does Kusanagi know that Ryouken is the leader of the Knights of Hanoi then, or has that information been neatly hidden? How much does Kusanagi even know of the situation?

"Yuusaku." Ryouken taps a hand on the table. "Can we talk?"

"Sure." He says it automatically before his mind can even register what happened. He grabs his cup of coffee as he heads out the back of the van and to where Ryouken stands. They don't sit; instead, Ryouken wanders to the side and out to where the benches are arranged along Stardust Road. Even in the day and without the bioluminescence, the sea is beautiful. Crystal clear water disturbed only by the swell of the tide. Sun stretched out across its dappled surface.

Ryouken takes a seat at one of the benches and unwraps his hotdog. Yuusaku settles down next to him, coffee cup held between his hands. He waits.

"I'm sorry about what happened that day."

Hu—

"We shouldn't have gone down there, not with so little information. My greed got the best of me. But ..." He pauses and swallows. "But did you really think ignoring our messages would fix this? You got them, didn't you?"

A shrug.

Ryouken sets the food down on his lap, and Yuusaku feels his nerves tense. He hates conflict. He hates fighting. He wishes Ryouken never, ever came down the mountain and that he never, ever agreed to talk.

"At least give us something. Something to say you were alive."

Yuusaku waits for more, but Ryouken says nothing. Every muscle in his body tells him to leave, run, go. Or pretend it never happened. But he sits frozen, mind racing.

"There are three reasons I wanted to talk to you today," Ryouken says, holding out his hands. "One, to check up on you. Two, to listen to what you think happened down there. And three, to plan our next mission for your practicum. I'm your supervisor too, remember? We've got a mission to complete here.

A mission. An illegal mission to hack into SOL Technologies and steal one of their secret creations, an ignis. Yuusaku hasn't been able to say a single word about it since his practicum started; if his instructors ever ask about his current learning he and the Knights of Hanoi will have to lie through their teeth to produce a good enough cover-up story. Even then, it might not be enough.

"Yuusaku?"

"I know." Softly, barely more than a whisper.

"Even if you couldn't tell us what was wrong, give us something. Anything."

"I know."

Ryouken sighs noisily through his mouth. Yuusaku flinches, awaiting some backhand comment, but Ryouken's next words come out as softer like he's speaking to a close friend.

"I know it must have been hard to tell us what was going wrong."

"It's nothing," Yuusaku says it quickly. His hands itch, and he scrubs them together like he's cleaning himself of his bad thoughts. "You come here often?"

"Getting away from the topic?" Ryouken's bright eyes pierce him, but his quirked lips remain. A smile. Barely, but still a smile. "I do live just up the hill, remember? This is the closest food truck." He pauses, smile widening. "Did you think I was above street food?"

Maybe, Yuusaku thinks. His silence speaks even louder.

"Even I like to indulge. Besides ..." Voice dropping, he turns his head towards the great blue sea behind them. Even in midday, bits of light scatter across the surface—early appearances of the beautiful stars on Stardust Road. The sight isn't nearly as spectacular as the view from Ryouken's balcony, and yet there is still something mesmerising about the meeting place of the blue sky and sea.

"You ever been out there?"

"Hm?"

Ryouken turns towards him, eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Ever been on Stardust Road?"

Yuusaku shakes his head.

"Want to?"

"Ho ..."

Ryouken's D-Board materialises at their feet. Of course. Only the richest residents would have a duel board in Den City; they're new technology commonly only seen in Link Vrains. Having already seen the board before, Yuusaku hops onto it and places his feet on separate sides. He glances over his shoulder to ask Ryouken how he's supposed to pilot if—or if he'll be riding at all—when the board shifts underneath him to accommodate Ryouken's weight. Hips brush against his waist. Feet shuffle next to his. Yuusaku sucks in a sharp breath as Ryouken stands directly behind him.

"Only brought the one board," Ryouken says, and though his voice remains deep and gravelly, Yuusaku catches the briefest note of humour. Did he plan that on purpose? Who knows.

"Shouldn't you be driving?" Yuusaku asks.

"You first," Ryouken says. "Take us for a ride, and then I'll give you some directions."

He's familiar with D-Boards in Link Vrains. Their styles are uniform and once you've piloted one, you feel like you can pilot them all. But driving in Den City, albeit as similar as driving anywhere else, feels somehow different. The air feels gentler here, not as sharp or gusty. He doesn't have to bend his knees quite so much to avoid high winds, and even with a passenger behind him, the board feels sturdy and balanced.

Carefully, he guides it along the road and away from Kusanagi's van and Ryouken's house. He flies above the cars once traffic begins to appear, but still stays along the paved path.

Then he cuts to the side, up over the gate, and down towards the water. With the nose of the board pointed towards the sea, he gets his first taste of salty sea water. Just before he tumbles into the water, he arcs the board up and levels it along the rising and dropping waves. Still the board remains sturdy beneath his feet. Even when he rocks himself from side to side, he remains firmly planted.

"Trying to crash us?" Ryouken asks.

Yuusaku charges forward. The board's nose drops down on a wave and water splashes over his legs and feet. Behind him, Ryouken lets out a sharp guffaw, and so Yuusaku tries it again just to see if he can surprise Ryouken once more.

It works.

"Drive better!"

He cuts into the next corner, spraying seawater all around them. He makes donuts in the water, then figure eights. He forgets all about getting wet or cold, his mind too driven by the adrenaline pumping in his veins. D-Boarding in Link Vrains has never been so exciting. He's only ever used it to drive or Speed Duel, never to just play around.

In the water, he catches his smiling reflection back at him. The starry water glows all around him, as if a thousand lightning bugs have been trapped in the watery depths. Yet when he looks up at the surface of the sea, he sees golden water splashed all around him. The great sun hangs in the sky, slowly dipping closer to the horizon.

How long has he been out here for? He lost track of time somewhere between when he was racing through the waves and when he started making donuts in the choppy waters. Behind him, Ryouken hasn't said a word. He's laughed or snorted at all of Yuusaku's childish games, but he hasn't spoken up. Peeking over his shoulder, he finds that Ryouken is still silent. Lips pressed together, he must be avoiding a mouthful or sea air or salt water—or both. Yet his eyes haven't lost their bright twinkle.

Leaning back, Yuusaku guides the board into a slow speed over the settling waters. His legs quiver from the cold; not until now could he feel the chilly ocean water against his jeans or the slight, albeit still shivery, wind hitting his face. He was too caught up in the joy of being out on the D-Board in the middle of Stardust Road.   
  
"Go there," Ryouken says. He reaches over him to point at the rocky coastline. They've looped back and forth on the water so many times that Yuusaku hardly remembers where they are until he sees the large villa set atop the mountain. Ryouken's house. From this angle, it looks more like a palace.   
  
Yuusaku does as Ryouken instructs, guiding the board closer to the coastline and travelling along the shelf. The waters are calmer here, only crashing when they hit an outcrop of rock peeking through the surface. The rocky mountain is soaked from the waves crashing into it; Yuusaku can't imagine the waves ever getting so big as to knock over someone's head.   
  
_ Splash! _   
  
Water drops over him—not from a large wave, but the resulting spray from a wave hitting a rock. He and Ryouken sputter and shake the water from their hair. That chill he feels deep in his bones. Involuntarily, he shivers, and Ryouken lets out a soft "ah."   
  
"Pull over. Let's go back to my place."   
  
Yuusaku blinks. "Hu—"   
  
"To get dry. No work today—it's my day off, and if you're missing hours, that's your responsibility. Still ... you look cold."   
  
He feels like it, shivering from head to toe in his soaked jeans and sweater. Just as he pulls his board up, he remembers something else.   
  
Kusanagi.   
  
"Wait, let me call Kusanagi—"   
  
Oh. On his phone is a text message:  _ take the afternoon off, you look like you're having fun out there ;) - Kusanagi _   
  
"Up we go." Ryouken clicks his heel back and the board rises into the air. Without direct control, Yuusaku feels his balance disappear, and he crouches low so as not to fall as the board floats up towards the cliff-top house. Did Ryouken feel this unbalanced when Yuusaku was making donuts in the water? Surely he would have fallen off. But thankfully, they both stay on the D-Board until it's risen up to the balcony. He has no time to appreciate the sight of the sun making first contact with the edge of the sea: one shiver and he follows Ryouken into the house.   
  
"I might have some clothes for you to borrow," Ryouken mumbles, padding across the living room. "Or Spectre might, one second ..."   
  
Yuusaku freezes in the doorway. "Your house ... this is your house."   
  
"Huh? Yeah, my place."   
  
Yuusaku's ears turn pink. On his first day, he walked here—walked through here—and he never knew it was Ryouken's living quarters. He feels like he's walked into a private room, and he hastily steps back towards the balcony.   
  
"You're allowed to be up here," Ryouken says. "It's just my living room." Not a second later, he follows up with, "Do you want a shower? Or a bath?"   
  
"Fine," Yuusaku says quickly. "I'm fine with clothes."   
  
"Suit yourself."   
  
He returns with fleece pants and a sweater, two garments Yuusaku never expected Ryouken to have in his closet. Would these even be his, or perhaps Spectre's, whoever he is. He tosses them to Yuusaku and points to the bathroom.   
  
Yuusaku comes over feeling like he's walked to class in his underwear. The clothing fits well and is far warmer than his waterlogged garments, yet he knows he'd feel more comfortable in his own wet outfit than the cashmere-soft outfit Ryouken brought him. He shouldn't be wearing his supervisor's clothes. Something about this whole scenario seems wrong.   
  
"You want tea? Coffee? Juice?"   
  
"It's fine."   
  
"Coffee it is then." On his way to the kitchen, he adds, "Take a seat, I'll be right there."   
  
He doesn't move an inch. Should he even be here? Can he go? Not if he's wearing Ryouken's clothing, he feels like. The warm clothes feel like chains shackling him to this room. Yuusaku glances around for any sign of Taki—does she live here too? But whereas the first time he wandered through he all he could focus on was the house, this time his mind is clear enough to notice the various pictures on the wall: team photos, official photographs of researchers receiving awards. Some of the awards even hang on the walls, addressed to Taki Kyoko, Kougami Ryouken, Kougami Kiyo ...   
  
Kiyoshi?   
  
"Father."   
  
Yuusaku nearly leaps through the ceiling. Ryouken passes him a hot mug of coffee that Yuusaku holds between his shaking hands. Even with the dry garments, his skin feels like it wears a layer of ice, and when he brings the cup up to his lips, he has to sniffle to stop his nose from running.   
  
"He was interested in the ignises too, you know." Ryouken settles back on the couch, crossing his knees together. Something about his tone catches Yuusaku's attention. Sorrow? Grief? When he learnt about the Knights of Hanoi, he learnt about Revolver and Vyra and various other code names, none of which remind him of someone related to Revolver. Then who ...   
  
"In fact, he made them."   
  
"Made? But SOL Technologies ..."   
  
"Took them," he finishes. He takes a slow sip of his coffee, biting back his next words. "SOL Technologies takes credit for them, but they only invented dueling AIs. My father created the specific ignis program—an enhanced dueling companion that could reinvent typical virtual reality dueling."   
  
Up in the photograph, Yuusaku spots Dr. Kougami. The man looks stern, probably dedicated his entire life to his work. Nowhere is Ryouken, not in any of the photos of his father receiving awards. There are photos of Ryouken receiving awards too, but again no Dr. Kougami. The two seem utterly absent from each other's lives. Then again, Yuusaku himself hasn't had much contact with his parents.    
  
"You want them back."   
  
"I want them gone."   
  
Oh.    
  
Right.   
  
Yuusaku swallows the pit in his throat and washes it down with another sip of coffee.    
  
"This is all his, you know? All his house, his technology, his money. I'm just a placeholder for him and there's not much I can do about it. But those ignises—the one thing he lost, the one thing that was taken from him—I can get back and then get rid of."   
  
Through his bangs, Ryouken glances up at him. "That guy in the hotdog truck, is he your father?"   
  
"Friend."   
  
"But if he died, would you inherit his business?"   
  
Yuusaku blinks. "N—"   
  
"Because he's not family, right? Because you have a choice. Because that's not your—" He blinks and swallows back his next words. Yuusaku hangs on the edge of his seat and suddenly tumbles forward, catching himself on the edge of the coffee table. For the briefest moment the room felt on fire, as if Ryouken's anger had manifested in the middle of the room as a roaring bonfire. But quickly the cold has swept back in and Ryouken folds himself together and sips neatly on his coffee.   
  
"You'll be coming to work on Monday, I presume?" Calm, cool, collected. Gone is any trace of malice or grief. Gone is the conversation that had Yuusaku hanging to the edge of his seat. He doesn't dare try to bring it up. Ryouken respected his privacy, now he ought to respect his.   
  
"I will."   
  
"See you then."   
  
Yuusaku glances down at the clothes. "What about ..."    
  
"Bring them back on Monday," he says. "We've got busy work ahead of us."   
  
His words are sharp daggers stabbing into Yuusaku's toes. He gathers himself up off the couch and hurries to the door before he intrudes any further. Not a flicker of anger appears on Ryouken's face, and yet somehow Yuusaku feels as if he's overstayed his visit, touched a tender nerve. He doesn't dare press on the conversation, or even ask Ryouken how he is.   
  
At the doorway, Yuusaku raises a still hand. "See you."   
  
Ryouken closes the door after him.


	5. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am weak for sickfics, so yeah ... this chapter has plot, but it's also extremely self-indulgent and imo filled the fluff quota, so yep, enjoy the sweet caretaking ^^

On Monday, Yuusaku wakes up dreary and tired, almost too tired for someone who missed most of the last week of his work experience with the Hanois and only took one shift for Kusanagi. He drags himself through the day, trying to keep his mind focused and clear when it feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. Ryouken doesn't say a word about their conversation on Saturday—not from his own exhaustion, for he looks as alert as a predator, but simply not wanting to press the topic.

Yuusaku is forever grateful for the silence.

Tuesday drags on even further. He wakes up with his throat dry and scratchy and his eyes crusted together with sleep. He goes to work once more but spends half the time watching the clock and waiting for it to hit noon so that he can sleep in the break room for an hour. Taki notices something is up, and he suspects Ryouken does too, but the most either of them say is, "Do you want a drink of water? Your voice sounds rough."

When Wednesday hits, he feels like he's been run over by a truck. Thick coughs pour from his lips, no longer dry and weak, but harsh and heavy and grating up and down his abused throat. He feels like he's swallowed a jar's worth of glass shards, all of which are now caught in the sensitive skin of his throat. Even breathing the cold, autumn air hurts. He shoves his face further into the pillow, but soon after throws his head back up as he realises he  _ can't breathe,  _ not with his nose plugged. More wretched coughing. Limbs hangs from the edge of the bed. His stomach roils under his hand from all his choking and coughing, but he swallows back the ebbing nausea and focuses on seeing clearly. His vision looks neither better nor worse than yesterday—a small gratitude among the abundance of new, albeit terrible, symptoms he's accumulated since last night. He can't even remember the last time he felt so terrible.

Carefully, he stretches his legs over the side of the bed and slips on yesterday's socks. He stumbles around the room looking for yesterday's uniform too; he can't be bothered to look for anything new. The moment wind touches his bare skin, he shivers from head to toe and curls into himself.  _ How  _ can it possibly be so cold?

At the doorway, he slips on his shoes and jacket. He yanks on a hat and scarf for extra measure even though outside looks like a typical, mild autumn day. Whatever illness he's contracted has made him feel like he's living in the Arctic under a thick layer of ice and snow. When he steps outside, it truly feels that cold. Burying his face in his scarf, he heads out into the cold and down the pathways. Each step hurts. His energy saps by the time he makes it to the main road, and his lungs burn with suppressed coughs. At the intersection to Stardust Road, he glances towards Kusanagi's house. He could stay there ... he could.

He turns towards the Hanoi's headquarters. He has work to do.

Miraculously, he makes it up the hill and to the front door. He scans his card to get through the front door, and then again once he's wandered down the labyrinth of hallways and doorways into the laboratory. With the hideout being so quiet, he can hear his loud, gurgling breaths and trying-to-be-silent sniffles; it surprises him that he hasn't been sent home yet for being a walking plague.

As soon as he steps through the doorway, something seems different. It's quieter in the room; normally, Taki and Ryouken are sitting at the desks with cups of coffee, waiting for him to start his day. Sometimes, they've already begun their project work and have to fill him on the important details. However, this time they're nowhere in sight—not at the desks or in the office room, nor anywhere else in the hideout. He pads across the room, checking various nooks and crannies. He even wanders to the vehicle garage.

No one.

If he were feeling one-hundred percent, this would be but a minor inconvenience. But today is the wrong day for such confusion and changes.

He dips his head forward as another croaking cough burns through his lungs—

"Yuusaku?"

He snaps his mouth closed, fighting off the urge and letting his lungs sear and crackle. As quickly as he can, he hurries back into the main room to find Ryouken standing at the doorway. He looks like he's just awoken from bed: dressed, albeit in just a t-shirt and slacks; and his hair stuck up in pointed strands like a starfish.

"What're you doing here?"

He frowns.

"So early, I mean," Ryouken adds. "Do you know what time it is?"

Time. He never bothered checking, having figured that he was already late to begin with. He hadn't even checked when he arrived even though hanging on the wall is a large digital clock that now reads ... 07:30. Work starts at 08:30.

"It's fine," Ryouken says, waving him off. "Taki's away today, so it's just you and me. I'll be down in a second."

Yuusaku nods his head, not daring to speak in case his voice cracks and breaks. Ryouken disappears without another word, but just as Yuusaku is settling down at his desk and logging into the computer, Ryouken reappears with a cup of black coffee. He looks refreshed; Yuusaku wonders just how long it took him to get from the middle of the room to his desk by the time Ryouken returned downstairs. Gone is the messy hair or simple attire: he looks like the rich businessman he appears as every day.

"We'll be looking at the program we'll use to extract the ignis," Ryouken explains, dropping a handful of folders down on Yuusaku's desk. "Paper copies today, but keep your computer logged on so you can research some of these terms."

Again, he nods his head. All this bouncing is giving him a headache from the sludge rolling around in his brain. He feels hot too—is such little work already making his brain melt?

He waits for Ryouken to wander off and do his own private work in Taki's study, but instead he settles down next to Yuusaku and starts on his own paperwork. Yuusaku stiffens. Were Ryouken elsewhere, he might be able to cut himself some slack and wallow in his sickening misery. But next to his  _ supervisor  _ he can do little more than sniffle discreetly and chug the coffee before he coughs up a lung.

If only he could focus on the paper. His eyes drift over the pages at least a dozen times, and yet the more he stares at it, the more he imagines he's reading an ancient script instead of kanji and hiragana. He can't even make out the individual words, much less string them together to form a coherent sentence. Grumbling lowly, he sucks back another mouthful of coffee and swallows round the tickle in his throat.

"Yuusaku."

He blinks. Did Ryouken ...

"Yuusaku, here."

He blinks and this time glances up. Ryouken pushes a package of tissues towards him. "Your face."

Oh.

Quickly he mops himself up, wheezing when his breath catches and he hastily stifles his coughing behind the tissue. He must look like the walking plague now; why Ryouken hasn't bothered to move across the room is beyond him.

"You want something to drink?" Ryouken asks. "More coffee?"

Yuusaku nods.

One of Ryouken's slim eyebrows raise up towards his bangs. "Do you take sugar, milk, cream?"

His eyes fold down into narrowed slits. Does Ryouken want to hear his wrecked voice? He knows he takes it black. Yuusaku shakes his head.

"What page are you working on?"

"Page tw—" His voice cracks, but not with a stomach-wrenching cough, but a stifled sneeze that bends him forward. He slaps a hand over his face as his throat seizes up, and this time he coughs until his stomach has shifted into his lungs. Eyes hazy, he peers up through his hands.

Ryouken's there with another tissue. "Should you really be working today?"

Yuusaku snatches up the tissue and mops himself off once more. "I'm fine."

"As your  _ supervisor,  _ I think you ought to take better care of yourself."

"I'll be  _ fine,"  _ Yuusaku says again. He's not working around children or the elderly, so there's no need for Ryouken to be so stingy about his health unless he's worried about getting sick himself. If he were paranoid about that, he'd work elsewhere instead of next to Yuusaku. No, Ryouken seems intent on kicking him out to 'get better.'

He'll get better if he gets to work and pushes through it.

A childish huff echoes through the room. "Fine," Ryouken says. He stomps away, only to return not a second later with two steaming cups of ... tea.

"With honey," Ryouken says, setting the mug next to Yuusaku's open palm. Yuusaku glares back at him. He's never drunk a sip of tea in his  _ life;  _ he and Kusanagi drink purely black coffee, not even watered down with cream or milk. They've sworn to never drink tea even upon their deathbed. He didn't even know  _ Ryouken  _ drank herbal tea, yet his own mug is filled with the same golden liquid.

Yuusaku pushes his drink to the side with the end of his pen. "Thank you," he says, and without another word, he gets back to work. Now that Ryouken already knows about his illness, there's no need to hide it. He coughs and sputters and chokes and sneezes, only muffling the sound into his winter jacket sleeves. Even when Ryouken says he's turnt the heating on, Yuusaku feels colder than a human in the tundra. Still, he pushes on until lunch time when Ryouken forces him to take a break.

"How much work have you done?" Ryouken asks.

"Six pages.” He forces his head to remain upright, but that only hurts his neck and cheeks and throat. His eyes water even from the dim lighting, only worsening his blurry vision. He can't see what face Ryouken is making, but by his voice alone he sounds ready to throw Yuusaku into a bed.

"That's little more than a page per hour." Ryouken taps his fingers to it. "If you're going to be so unproductive, the least you can do is go home and sleep this off."

"I'll do more then," Yuusau says, snatching the papers back. "I'll work on my bre—"

Ryouken's hand slaps down the papers. "You'll take a break."

Sighing only triggers another throaty cough that he muffles deep into his jacket. When at last he can breathe, he croaks out, "Sending me home too?"

A mirthless smile. "I like to think you're smart enough to know when you need to leave."

Yuusaku pulls himself up to his feet. "Guess I'm taking a break then." He steps forward only to watch the room spin around him like a violent merry-go-round. Hastily he snatches the corner of the table to steady himself and leans back with a weak wheeze. The world slowly comes to; in the corner of his eye, he sees Ryouken's wide eyes and feels the hand round his upper arm.

"Let go," he says, shaking his arm free. "I'll be back in a half-hour."

Ryouken releases his hand with no amount of grumbling and griping. When he steps away again, the world stays where it's meant to be, and he makes it into the break room where he drops down onto the nearest couch. For a company with only three visible employees, this room is far too large: several round tables scattered around the space; two couches tucked into one corner with their own private table; and a countertop with a microwave and kettle. Even on days when he and Taki, or he and Ryouken, are here together, the room feels far too empty.

Today, Yuusaku appreciates the noise as he sinks back into the leather. His eyes drift closed, but every time he feels himself ebbing towards sleep, his throat clenches or his eyes water or he has to sniffle or do  _ something  _ to deal with the awful symptoms. In the end, he spends the half-hour as plagued as he felt back in the office and even more unproductive than before.

Just as his break ends, Ryouken appears around the corner with another mug, this one filled with dark, black coffee.

"No cream, milk, or sugar," he says.

Yuusaku's fingers curl around the cup, draining it of its warmth. He draws his face into the warm steam, only breaking away when he feels his nose running and has to wipe it on his jacket sleeve.

"Will you be staying this afternoon?"

"Yes," Yuusau says, voice low and creaky. He clears it, wincing as the glass shards rattle around in his lungs.

He looks like he bit into a lemon. "Very well," Ryouken says, tone clipped. "That paperwork is due before you leave then."

"Sure." He trudges back to his desk and drops down into the seat. There must be at least fifty papers here for him to look through and annotate, some of which require him to search complex terminology and obtain further resources. He already knows it'll take him more than the prescribed time to finish everything, but ...

Yuusaku gets to work without another word. Write, note, search, complete; rinse and repeat. Ryouken works dutifully next to him with his own pile of work. He gets up to refill coffee or bring Yuusaku tissues, but doesn't utter a single word. Any other day, Yuusaku would feel suspicious and anxious—not enough to make small talk, but enough to hope that Ryouken initiates menail chatter—but today he could care less about prosaicness. He's had far too much of it today.

He forgets to watch the time all through the evening, and only stops when, at long last, the paperwork is completed.

"Done?" Ryouken asks, cheek cradled in his hand.

Yuusaku stretches him arms above his head, but only gets part of a deep breath before he's choking for air and bent over his knees. He gratefully accepts the lukewarm coffee pressed into his hands, and only when he's caught his breath does he glance up at his blinking monitor screen.

19:00.

"Overtime," Ryouken says. "You were so focused on your work that you never bothered to check the time. I didn't bother to tell you either."

Guilt nabs at his belly. He's hardly had anything to eat, only making him feel iller. Worst of all, his overworking made Ryouken stay late too.

"You really don't know how to care for yourself, do you?"

"I'm going home now," Yuusaku says, ignoring the remainder of Ryouken's grumbling. If Ryouken knew he was staying late, he could have told him and saved both of them the headache. He motions to stand, but again the world spins like a top around him. His hands clench round the table and his stomach roils.

"If you can make it out the door."

"I'll be ..." Yuusaku bends forward with a harsh sneeze. "Fine," he finishes over his jacket sleeve. As an afterthought, he adds, "Sorry for the delay."

"You really think that's what I'm upset about?"

Arguing drains him. Takes the energy out of him. He doesn't even have it in him to say, "I don't know," or keep the conversation going.

All too quickly, his vision grows darker, and this time Yuusaku lets it rush forward to greet him and drag him to sleep—

"Up you go."

He blinks rapidly. Ryouken's arm is braced around him, and Yuusaku leans heavily into him. His legs feel worn down by lead chains, and as he tries to drag himself upright, his throat seizes up. Vision spinning, he hangs himself forward until he can catch his breath or his footing, whichever comes first.

He doesn't remember what happens next, but when his vision does clear—and he can feel his limbs at last—he finds himself seated in the corner of a plush, cream couch. A thick afghan blanket is wrapped around his shaking shoulders and tucked under his chin as if it were a cape. He nestled down into it, letting out a single, hoarse cough. Even a single breath burns down to his heart.

Slowly, Yuusaku glances around. Vaguely, he recognises this area: the couch and coffee table, the extravagant entertainment centre and television, and the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the o .... ocean.

His head snaps around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Ryouken holds a mug in one palm and a cloth in the other. He sets them both down and reaches into his pocket to procure a small, white bottle.

"Can you take medication?"

He blinks. "Hm?"

Ryouken holds the bottle up for him. "Cold medication. You're not taking anything that would mess with this?"

He shakes his head.

Ryouken drops two pills into his palm, closing Yuusaku's fingers round the medication.

"I ... don't ..."

Ryouken presses the mug into his hand. While warm, Yuusaku only finds water inside. Great. Lukewarm water and chalky capsules.

He stifles a sneeze into his fist and then takes the pills with a small swig of water. Though tiny, they burn when he swallows and he swears he feels them catch in his chest. Quickly, he takes another, deeper gulp of water.

Ryouken presses the damp cloth into his hand. "You have a fever. Might want to clean up."

Wordless, Yuusaku presses it to his cheek, then to his nose. He can't feel a fever anywhere, just the tight pain in his sinuses, but he supposes with his current state he can't feel much of anything specific; everything hurts all at once. Ryouken's medicine should take effect within the hour, but by that time he should hopefully be gone. No way can he stay overnight.

As he wipes the sweat from his cheeks, Ryouken settles back on the couch. The evening glow casts dark shadows under his eyes, making him appear more like a haunted spectre.

"You'll stay home tomorrow."

Yuusaku shrugs his shoulders. If he's well enough, he'll return. He made progress today; Ryouken's just pissed that he managed to work while ailed.

"You'll wreck yourself if you keep that up."

He sets the towel down on the table. His legs groan when he puts even the slightest weight on them, but he rises to full height. His thick parka hangs on the back of the couch and he collects it on his way to the door. Before he leaves, he catches one last look at Ryouken, seated on the couch with blue eyes wider than the moon, skin as pale as starlight.

"Thank you," Yuusaku says, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Whatever Ryouken gave him is useless. Absolutely useless, Yuusaku thinks, as he hangs off the side of the bed, cheek pressed the cold, iron bar of his bed frame. The covers are tangled round his ankles like molten shackles, and weakly he kicks them away. His bedroom feels like a sauna, and though the warm temperature should feel soothing on his lungs, it only chokes him further. Each breath comes out as a harsh, wheezy pant. Too tired to cough, he hangs his mouth open and lets the sickening air attack him.

Work.

He has work today, his hazy mind tells him. He still has work to complete, still has a mission to solve. He can't let Ryouken down, not after everything he's done, everything they've worked towards ...

Miraculously, he crawls out of bed. He thanks past-him for wearing clothes to bed since all he has to do is zip up his parka and slip on his shoes. Today, the air feels warmer than it ever has been. No longer a crisp autumn day, the city seems intent on baking him into the slippery pavement. Each step he takes feels weaker than the last; he half-expects to fall flat on his face before he even makes it to Ryouken's place.

At the intersection, he spots Kusanagi's truck. He could rest there, even for just an hour. Kusanagi would never ask questions and he'd let him continue on to work. But this time, as another miracle, he's remembered to check the time: he has ten minutes to get to Ryouken's place. By the time he makes it up to the hill, he'll be right on time.

He shakes his head to clear the spots from his vision. He'll be fine.

One step at a time, one foot in front of the other. He climbs the hill, oblivious to his wheezy pants. More than once he stops to cough and heave, but he continues to the top of the hill and stands at Ryouken's doorway. The colors seem fader today, perhaps from the approaching rain clouds. He steadies himself with a hand on the doorway and sucks in a deep breath.

Knock. Kno—

"Yuusaku."

Ryouken looks more like a jumble of colours than a person; no matter how many times Yuusaku blinks, his vision only grows blurrier, darkening at the corners. He leans forward to see more closely, drags his feet forward to step inside the door, but all at once his mind spins like a top and he tumbles forward. He doesn't feel Ryouken catch him, only registers that he  _ has  _ been caught when Ryouken pulls him upright and to his side.

"You don't listen, do you? To anyone."

He weakly throws a shoulder up in the air.

"We're going home."

"I'm ..."

"Too sick to work," Ryouken cuts in. "Either you go to your friend's or back home, but you are in no shape to be working today, and I won't have you plaguing the laboratory. Now ..." He shifts his arm under Yuusaku, pulling him upright. His feet drag along the cement. "What way?"

Even in his fever-riddled delusion, he still feels the spike of anxiety. Even Kusanagi doesn't know where he lives. His house is his private space, his one small sanctuary. Though dim and lonely, it's the single place he can hide in where no one will ever find him, ever hurt him. And though he doubts Ryouken would ever do such a thing, a prickle of worry pinches his stomach and tells him to doubt anyone's trust. He can't trust a single person.

"Yuusaku."

Can't trust ...

Lungs burning, he leans into Ryouken's sturdy side as he coughs and coughs. When he can finally catch his breath, he mumbles out: "Above the ... restaurant."

"Restaurant?"

"On the corner ... the ... old one."

"Got it. I'll get the car. Stay right there and I'll be back."

He settles back down on the cement step. Too tired to keep his body upright, he leans against the side of the house. The cold wall feels blissful on his feverish cheeks; the rest of the world feels like a sauna trying to cook him. He fumbles with the buttons of his jacket, trying to break free of the heat, but just as he gets the first button undone, Ryouken returns and swats his hands away.

"Stay warm."

He pushes his lip out. He'll do whatever he wants. Unfortunately, by the time he manages to lift his hands up to try and peel back his jacket, Ryouken has lifted him up onto his feet and guided him towards what can only be the car. With his vision hazy, he sees only vague shapes and colours, but the plush leather seats he lies on feel cool and refreshing, and the window he presses his cheek to feels like the inside of a freezer. His eyes slip closed.

"We'll be home soon," Ryouken says, revving the engine.

Soon feels more like five seconds, though Yuusaku doubts his addled mind is able to keep track of time. One minute he's seated in the car, cheek pressed to the cool window, and the next minute he's been guided to his front door. He recognises the sounds of the restaurant around the corner. Slowly, he fumbles for his keys in his pockets; Ryouken fishes them from his hand and unlocks the door. As soon as the door opens, Yuusaku brushes aside and stumbles through the door. Even with his blurry vision, he can find the shape of his bed and tumbles onto it.

Ryouken's footsteps click behind him.

"Under the covers."

He twists his head to the side and peers out of the corner of his vision. "I went home, just as you said."

"Because I told you to," Ryouken says.

Shrugging his shoulders, he returns to undoing the buttons of his jacket.

Ryouken swats his hands away. "Sweat out the fever."

"I'm hot."

"Then it's working."

He sighs and presses his face back into the pillows. Just as his eyes begin to close, he surges forward with two choked-back sneezes.

"I'll get you a cloth," Ryouken says.

Were his voice not shredded to dust, he'd tell Ryouken to leave. But he can't, not with his energy, not with his illness, not without thinking that that might only make matters worse. He leaves his face pressed into the sheets until Ryouken returns and he can clean himself up. Then, slowly, he pulls himself up to the single, lumpy pillow on his bed. Unlike Ryouken's posh couch with its thick afghan, his own bed is a thin mattress and thinner quilt. He's fortunate he's above the ground, though that does send a chilly breeze up through the mattress and into his skin.

"Thank you," he says. He clears his throat and tries again. "Thank you for this."

_ "This  _ shouldn't have happened in the first place." Ryouken crosses his arms over his chest, letting out another indignant huff. "I can see my fucking breath in his place—do you have heating? Running water? Is this even habitable?"

"Posh ... prince," he grounds out. "Water's in the sink."

"Heating?"

He shrugs a shoulder. If he bundles under enough blankets, he's warm enough. Besides, it already feels like a hot desert in here; the last thing Ryouken should be thinking about is making it  _ warmer. _

"You don't have food here?"

Yuusaku blinks. His vision clears briefly, enough for him to see Ryouken standing in his small kitchen tucked into the corner of his room, peering into the cupboards. Yuusaku doesn't even own a fridge; he eats his lunch and dinner at Kusanagi's place, and only keeps one or two cans of soup around for emergencies. Judging by Ryouken's pale, horrified expression, he's out of emergency rations.

"There's a restaurant around the corner; I'll be back. In the meantime ..."

Again, Ryouken appears before him, as if Yuusaku has missed half the animation tracks and only sees Ryouken teleport from place to place. Ryouken drops two more chalky, white pills into Yuusaku's hand, and then passes him a mug of lukewarm water.

"These didn't work ... last time," Yuusaku says, but he tips the mug back and swallows them.

"They don't work overnight. Rest. I'll be back."

As weak as he feels, Yuusaku doesn't need to be told twice. He automatically sinks back into the sheets, head tipping closer to his chest. But just as sleep catches him, he startles awake at the sound of the door. Of the footsteps outside. Of the slight drip from his drain. Even at home, sleep eludes him. Ryouken will be home soon too, and he can't be asleep while someone else is around. Inside him, his body and mind wage a war: sleep or no sleep.

In the end, he ends up in a weird fugue state and only rises to the noise of the door lock clicking open. Ryouken returns with his arms ladled with bags, none of which belong to the restaurant below the flat. One is from the grocery store down the street, and another is from the pharmacy further down. Ryouken drops them down at the foot of the bed and rifles through them.

He tosses a blanket onto Yuusaku's head.

"Where—"

"Around your shoulders," he says. "It's fucking cold in here."

Yuusaku complies. As soon as the fabric touches the bare skin of his neck and cheeks, his sinks down into it. How can he possibly feel so cold now after roasting not a half-hour before? Gratefully, he tucks the blanket corners under his chin and snuggles into it. He peers over the tops of his knees as Ryouken pulls of several different boxes and packages.

"Medicine?"

"Fever patches." He tears one open and passes it to Yuusaku. "On your forehead."

He pastes it to his hot skin, wincing at the first contact. His cheeks burn. He must look like quite the sight.

Next comes the thermometer which Ryouken sticks under his tongue. "Holds it there until it beeps."

Yuusaku blinks in surprise, but holds it steady until he hears the soft trill. Ryouken's crunched features tell him all he needs to about his current temperature: he's still ill.

Weakly, he bends over his knees and coughs until his lungs give out.

"Don't have anything for that," Ryouken says, "and you shouldn't suppress it anyways. Drink water. Tea."

"Not tea."

"Water then."

A cup is pressed into his shaking hands. As bitter and vile as water tastes, he accepts it only to wash out the dry taste in his mouth. Fortunately, Ryouken doesn't ask him to eat any food; Yuusaku doubts he could stomach it. But he pulls out several more packages and lines them up on the foot of the bed like a small army of non-antibiotics. Yuusaku feels himself curl further into the blankets.

"Did you want me to go to work ... so badly?" His voice peters off at the end, and he clears it with a soft, gurgling cough. "All this?"

"I want you to get  _ better,"  _ Ryouken says.

"As my ... supervisor?"

Ryouken glares at him. "Rest."

A shiver runs up his back. "I ... can't."

"Can—"

"Not with you here," Yuusaku finishes. He pauses to catch his breath, wheezing at even the slightest raise of his voice. "Not with anyone ..."

"Then I'll come back in a couple hours."

Blink. Cough. Sneeze. Scrub face with cloth.

"Sleep," Ryouken tells him, "and I'll come check up on you in a couple hours. Make you take some food."

As simple as the solution sounds, it hardly sounds possible. Does Ryouken trust him to stay in the bed? Does he even want to return? Judging by his grim expression alone, Yuusaku knows better than to press the idea. He waits for Ryouken to leave, and only then does he tuck himself under the blankets. He stays upright, knowing that if he dips his head down he'll only lose his breath. Then, as if all the exhaustion of the week has crashed upon his head, he falls asleep.

He awakens to something cool on his forehead—the smallest kind gesture among a wave of pain that washes over him. Every bone in his body hurts; every organ twinges in pain. He blinks his eyes once and everything seems to go wrong like a Jenga tower with a single missing block. Coughing, he struggles to keep himself upright, but his lungs rebel before he can suck in a single, clear breath. He chokes on breath after breath until the lip of a cup is pushed against his cracked bottom lip. Hastily, he sips. Chokes more. Spills water all across his lap, but greedily slurps until he can breathe enough to settle back in the sheets.   
  
He expects to see Ryouken grinning at him, ready to give him a witty retort. But Ryouken only looks as pale as a ghost as sets the cup back down on the table and adjust the blanket round Yuusaku's shoulders.   
  
"You barely got any sleep."   
  
Ryouken must have just gotten back home; his shoes are kicked off at the doorway, and his jacket hangs halfway off his shoulders. Did he run when Yuusaku first awoke? He must have been quite the sight on the bed, choking on his weak, phlegmy breaths.   
  
"I can't even give you medication yet ..." He pushes a shaking hand through his hair, fisting it at the top where his white bangs scatter into soft violet shades. When they first met, Yuusaku wanted to ask whether Ryouken dyed his bangs that colour. Now, he wonders if the white strands are all stress-induced. Ryouken looks like a nervous wreck.   
  
Yuusaku rubs his clammy hand against his forehead. Hot. He still has a fever then?    
  
"Soup."   
  
He turns his head away.    
  
"Broth. You can drink it in a mug." A slight slop, and then a warm mug is pressed into his hands. Yuusaku's stomach churns as he brings it to his lips, but when he swallows, it settles warmly in his stomach. He can't remember the last time he had a proper meal—probably sometime at Kusanagi's, but it only would have been a mug of coffee and a plain hotdog. Normally, he'd turn away soup, but whether from hunger or the cold meddling with his taste buds, he swallows it back before Ryouken returns with another cool cloth.   
  
"Can you really not sleep with anyone else in the room?" Ryouken sounds neither frustrated nor judging, simply curious.   
  
Yuusaku shrugs. "I can only sleep here."   
  
"Alone?"   
  
He nods his head, muffling the next coughs into the corner of his blanket. "I can sleep ... by myself."   
  
"Can you really? You came to work all week ill. Visibly ill. So ill that you passed out in front of my door."   
  
"I'm not getting … out of this bed," Yuusaku says. "I don't want to."   
  
"But you wanted to come to work all week?"   
  
He shuffles further under the blankets.    
  
"You wanted to punish yourself?"   
  
"I wanted to make up for before."   
  
Ryouken blinks at him, looking like he bit into a lemon. "What?"   
  
He thinks of saying, "Nevermind," but that'll only end in a tiring loop that'll eventually lead to him giving in, so instead he says, "For before ... on the trip ..." On the trip where he broke down. On the trip where he snapped and lost it, and then afterwards refused to go to work even when he could have, even when he should have; and all the while refusing to talk to anyone or make any attempt to solve the hole he'd dug for himself—   
  
"I'm not upset about that."   
  
"Doesn't ... matter ..."   
  
"I'm more upset about you working yourself to death than you missing work because of my mistake of taking you down into Link Vrains when it was unsafe. It'd be pointless to blame you for my failure to act as a suitable supervisor."   
  
As kind as Ryouken's words seem, they only drill deeper into his plagued mind. The warm, choking air scratches at his abused throat, and no amount of hot water or coffee eases the incessant scratch. He swelters under the blankets and jackets, eyelids heavy, nose plugged, body sore. To Ryouken, he must look like such a mess, and yet he can't help but fight a little longer, press a bit further, tell Ryouken that he did mess up—   
  
"I'm sorry I put you in an unsafe situation."   
  
Pause. Blink.    
  
"You're ..."   
  
"Sorry that I made a selfish choice. I wanted to go down into Link Vrains to get the ignis, and was even considering stealing it that very day. But I was greedy and it cost us greatly. I should have owned up to my failure rather than let you wallow in self-pity. How foolish of me."   
  
"But—"   
  
"I'm also sorry to have put you through that situation," Ryouken presses on, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "You don't have to tell me what happened down there, but it's obvious that it caused you immense distress. As your supervisor, it's my duty to guide you. I only put you in danger down there. That was my mistake."   
  
Though he hasn't known him for long, a nagging thought at the back of Yuusaku's mind tells him that this is quite unlike Ryouken. Perhaps he's never apologised before, or owned up to his mistakes; whatever he wants to call them. He hangs his head, not in defeat, but in recognition, and Yuusaku dips his head in respect. It only feels right.    
  
"It's my fault ... for this ..."   
  
"You'll recover," Ryouken says, and this time, under his gruff tone, is the slightest bubble of laughter. He pushes the mug back into Yuusaku's hand, and Yuusaku takes a deep sip. It warms him from the inside out. Carefully, he settles back into the bed, resting the cup on the floor next to him.   
  
"I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you," he says. "You have my number to call me, correct?"   
  
Yuusaku nods.    
  
"Don't hesitate."   
  
Quietly, Ryouken pads across the room and to the door. Yuusaku's pricked ears here every step, and when the door clicks closed, he drops his head onto the pillow and closes his eyes once more. Every inch of his body hurts, and yet when he falls asleep, for the first time in what feels like a month, he can lean back and take a deep, proper breath. When he awakens, he knows Ryouken will have returned.    
  
A smile flickers onto his lips.   
  
_ Thank you. _


	6. Complete

He stays home for the rest of the week. Ryouken visits him every day, only leaving when he's falling over in exhaustion. He returns though, day or night, often laden with bags of groceries or medication. The only time they leave the house is to visit the doctor's when his coughing turns particularly violent. All throughout the week, Ryouken offers nothing more than comforting words. He doesn't bring any of their paperwork around until the weekend, when Yuusaku can at least see and think clearly. With no other furniture, Ryouken leans back against his bed frame and completes all his work.

By next week, Yuusaku feels healthy enough to leave his house. He runs his fingers through his hair; last night's shower was a relief. Cheeks no longer pink and nose no longer red, he looks alive for this first time in a week. His throat still hurts, and his breath gurgles in his lungs even if he stays perfectly still—yet he feels better than he has in a while, and even without thinking about the work waiting for him when he gets back, he knows it's time to return.

He slips into the first pair of jeans and a sweater he can find, and searches through the flat for where he threw his scarf and hat. Even with the space heater Ryouken bought him, he can already tell that outside will be unpleasantly cold and frosty.

Just as he's tying his scarf behind his neck, a knock on the door startles him.

"Ryou ..."

He pulls the door open. Sure enough, Ryouken stands in the frosty, snowy weather. His businessman-like air is muted today by the toque on his head and the sleek pink scarf tied around his pale neck. It stands in sharp contrast to his black trench coat; he tugs the corners of his scarf up to his chin and smirks.

"You're ready?"

Yuusaku rolls his eyes. "I'm not late."

"I came to pick you up early—to talk about an upcoming mission."

His ears prick at those words. While he was ill, Ryouken hardly talked about their work. Even when he was allowed to work, all he could do was sort maps and look for entrances and exits into Link Vrains. It didn't seem like the important hacking work needed to get into the backdoors of SOL Technologies and down into the depths of Link Vrains, unless ...

"You remember how to get into Link Vrains? You paid attention, correct?"

His chest clenches in joy. He opens his mouth to speak, but his voice catches on a sharp prick in his throat and he coughs behind his hand.

"Are you well enough?"

"Fine," Yuusaku says. The corners of his mouth quirk up, and he zips his jacket up to his chin. "I'm ready to go."

Ryouken's small, blue eyes narrow—and then he shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "I'll trust you this time." He tosses Yuusaku a small card to insert into his own duel disk: a protection program in case they run into any danger. Yuusaku slips it into a pocket on the side and turns on his disk. Blue light flickers from the screen in the middle of the disk, and then an option appears for him: Enter Link Vrains.

"We should probably sit first," Ryouken says. He tilts his head towards the semi-open doorway. "Can I?"

"Sure, come on in." Yuusaku pulls the door open for him, and Ryouken follows, shaking out his hair and slipping off his shoes. Having been in the apartment before, he wanders over to the bed and sits down on the floor next to it. Yuusaku pulls face. "Do you ...?"

"I'll sit here."

Yuusaku flops down on the floor next to him, shivering at the slight chill in the house. Depending on how long the mission takes, they could be on the floor for a while. They'll be frozen stiff by the time they return. Yet Ryouken doesn't complain as he fiddles with the controls on his own duel disk. When he's ready, he holds the disk in front of him, finger hovering over the enter key.

"See you on the other side."

Anxiety bubbles in his gut. It's here. It's happening.

"See you soon."

He clicks the button. Bright, flashing colours assault his vision. Skintight fabric curls over his limbs, stretching up along his back and cinching high on his neck. His hair flutters in his face, turning from blue and pink to pink and yellow. He holds out his hand as his duel disk projects a bright screen in front of him—the pathway into Link Vrains. Suddenly, he falls forward into the new, virtual world.

Link Vrains, a duelist's paradise. He floats down the side of a building, carefully avoiding the detection of several duelists cruising on D-Boards. He lands just behind a cute maid cafe. As nonchalantly as he can be, he wanders out from around the corner. Nothing looks suspicious today. The central square is chirping with chatter, and over his head several duelists fly locked in a Speed Duel. At this hour, most youth are just starting to enter Link Vrains during their lunch break: their business and arrival makes the right amount of commotion for his and Ryouken's plan.

Speaking of Ryouken ...

"Yuusaku."

He spins on his heel. Though he's seen Ryouken's virtual avatar before, the sight of a galactic warrior still surprises him. His helmet is tucked against his side, revealing his sharp, white and red hair—not too different from the hairstyle Yuusaku saw when he came too early for work.

_ Bedheaded Ryouken,  _ he thinks with a chuckle.  _ How cute. _

Ryouken's cheeks grow dusty pink. "What're you staring at? Come on."

He leads the way out of the city centre and towards the side of Link Vrains. They walk first, but once they're out of the thicket of pedestrian traffic, they hop onto their boards and fly to the edge of the island. As soon as he steps onto the board, a pang of worry stabs through his gut. They're going back down into Link Vrains. They're going to that same, electric-filled place. Already, he can feel the current running up and down his arms.

He shakes himself once, but all is does is make his head spin.

Quickly, he follows Ryouken to the edge of the island. The great Link Vrains void stares back at him. Did they really travel so far one day, all the way to the bottom of the barrier? How can this virtual world even extend any further? It looks like a great, monstrous chasm waiting to swallow them whole. Even Ryouken looks a bit anxious about returning, teeth stuck in the pink flesh of his lip. He chews at it unconsciously before speaking.

"First step: get to the bottom of the chasm." He glances up at Yusuaku. "Ready?"

Yuusaku tips the nose of his board over the edge. He lets the engine stall as he drops, faster and faster. The wind catches on his hair and slaps his face; his skintight suit slips through the stronger currents. He feels like a boneless creature weaving through gusts of wind. He doesn't see or hear Ryouken fall, only stops him jet forward from the corner of his eye and spiral down the length of Link Vrains. Something in Yuusaku's heart leaps.

He wants to do that.

And before he can pull himself back, he glides in and spins with Ryouken, faster and faster, until his vision grows blurry and the world melds together. Even then, he keeps spinning. Ryouken can be his eyes. The current between them grows stronger, sucking them together. The closer they get, the more easily Yuusaku can see Ryouken's quirky smile or the visor that has fallen over his eyes. What must he look like to Ryouken? Is he smiling, frowning, grimacing?

Smiling. The pull on his lips tells him he's smiling too.

His smile only disappears as they slowly descend along the top of Link Vrains, back to the gate separating the general area away from the secret locations. Beyond that gate lies the electric snakes; through the barrier, he can hear the hiss and crackle of their electric bodies.

Ryouken gets to work hacking into the passcode on the gate. Just like last time, it opens after a couple of minutes. The metal disappears into thin air, and they hop back on their boards and sink into the next level. Before, the tunnel was dark, lit only by the electric creatures, but today there are fairy lights encircling the entire chasm. It makes the place seem more calm and peaceful, and even through his thick chest, Yuusaku feels his heart rate begin to slow.

"I'll be right here," Ryouken says.

He opens his mouth to reply when the first snake cuts across him. His lungs freeze, body cramping, board sputtering to a stop—already? Already the great, lurking beast has appeared. Already he's in peril and he's hardly stepped out of the safety of Link Vrains, much less plunged himself into the great, unknown depths. He reaches out for Ryouken, only to lose him as the lights disappear. The chasm darkens all at once. He feels like he's been swallowed by a great beast.

"Yuusaku," Ryouken says, voice low and even. "I'm going to take your hand. We'll do this together."

A hand fixes onto his wrist. He still jumps, but lets Ryouken guide him down. When the beast's light flashes in the tunnel, he sees Ryouken floating next to him.

"You remember the map you looked at, correct? Can you tell me where to go next?"

Next? He can barely focus on right now. His eyes scan the empty walls of the chasm. There should be doors or cavities somewhere, and one of the should ...

"This way." He tugs Ryouken towards one of the round openings with a single, black and purple dot above it. He remembers it from the lesson: a tunnel that leads to the ignis' coding. In this passageway, there are no electric monsters nor decorative fairy lights: they have to use the flashlights on the front of their D-Boards to move forward. The big searchlights make Yuusaku uneasy: what if someone notices those and uses them to find them? There's only one way out: they can't log out from here.

Fortunately, while there are no lights here, there are also no cameras. If SOL Technologies hasn't seen them earlier, they won't be able to find them now. They've wandered into the deep, unstable coding of Link Vrains—a wasteland of maybes and in-the-futures for all their various projects. On a computer, it would appear as a junk folder. But in here, it looks more like a great, black and purple labyrinth. From the top, he can't see any of the open paths; down below, the tall, stone walls glow ominously from the ground up.

They float down to the ground where they hover in wait. From within his duel disk Yuusaku extracts the document he scanned earlier: the map to the ignis.

"This is the way?" Ryouken asks.

Yuusaku raises a thin, pale eyebrow. "I hope so," he says, "or else we've come all the way down here for nothing."

"I never said I knew how to get down here. I'm just trusting you."

He turns his gaze back to the map. If he squints, he can pinpoint around where he and Ryouken have materialised. There are far too many entrances and exits to this labyrinth, and the chamber with the ignis could be the end of several of them. There are even paths leading in and out of this secret lair.

"Where do we go from here?"

"Forward, then left. Follow me."

With no lights in the sky, and the purplish glow from the walls acting only as a strange, dim backlight, they have to use their torches once more to see through the crypt. Glowing in every shadow appears a face, a trap door, a stranger waiting for them. As much as Yuusaku hates the electricity, he also hates the dark. He shines his light down each of the hallways as they wander through the labyrinth. Ryouken travels one or two steps behind him, one hand in his pocket. A part of Yuusaku hopes Ryouken is just as scared and trying to hide it. This place should give everyone the creeps.

"What are we looking for?" Ryouken asks.

Yuusaku twists the map round, gazing at it from one side to the next. "Stairs, I thi ..."

A bright light drops right in front of him. Before he can panic and freeze, his mind jumps into overdrive.

Run.

Grab Ryouken and run.

Spinning on his heel, he snatches Ryouken's collar and slams him against the wall of the labyrinth just before a thick, white beam shoots down from a small, floating robot. The searchlight scans the empty ground before disappearing, and the robot floats away on silently flapping wings.

He lets out a rough cough followed by a deep sigh.

"Security," Ryouken says. "Looks like Zaizen is keeping an eye on things down here."

Yuusaku nods his head. "Does Zaizen ... know what's down here?"

"You mean the ignis? No. He's just the chief custodian of the defense and protection of Link Vrains. Think of him as a security officer who cleans up the messes left behind by the rest of the company. I doubt he even know what he's protecting."

"Then the ignis is ..."

"My father's invention."

Yuusaku remembers hearing about Ryouken's father—briefly, vaguely, perhaps even in a dream. He certainly doesn't seem like the sort of fellow Yuusaku would meet in Link Vrains, nor does he seem like someone Yuusaku wants to meet in general. From general conversation, he's gathered that Taki is simply Ryouken's boss and that the two of them live in the house together. But never before has Yuusaku seen Ryouken's family, especially his father whose work they're searching for.

"Does your father know the ignis is down here?"

His own question surprises him—and Ryouken too. He stares with wide, empty eyes, the same expression he wore when Yuusaku came to the door as sick as a dog. He takes a moment to catch his breath and compose his words, and when he speaks, his voice sounds hollower.

"He's not around anymore ..."

Yuusaku drops it, turning away to head down the tunnel. The next turn-off should be around here somewhere ...

"He died from complications while creating the ignis: electric shock, you could call it. Or cardiac arrest from electrocution. He finished the work, of course."

A tremor runs down Yuusaku's spine. He's been shocked before; he knows the fear. But Ryouken ...

"So you want to find it ..."

"And destroy it," Ryouken finishes.

"De—destroy?"

"A high-performance artificial intelligence that'll do all the work for you and that, if it so chooses, could turn on you and destroy you? Not a chance in hell I'll leave that be."

Yuusaku doesn't have it in him to argue. He doesn't mind the Duel Buddy system, a low-performing duel assistant that could be the early platform for the ignis.

"My dad used to run this company," Ryouken explains, "but since he's not around anymore, it's my turn to pursue a new goal. That's why we're destroying the ignis, Yuusaku. We're rebuilding this company from the ground up without my father to tell me what to do, without being held back." The glimmer in his eyes sparkles like the lights upon Stardust Road, and for the briefest moment the dark room around them flickers with starlight.

"You ready, Yuusaku?"

"Ready."

He presses his heel down on the ignition and zips through the maze, down the corridors, over the small blockades. Even with their meagre D-Board lights, they find their way to a tall, stone door blocking the rest of the way through the labyrinth. Stretching his head up as high as he can see, he can't even see the roof of the building. Stuck in the wall is a small keyboard and screen.

Password, it reads.

"I-g-n-i-s," Ryouken says, typing out the keys.

The door swings open on silent hinges. Rather than more hallways, ahead of them is a single room no bigger than Yuusaku's one-room flat. In the centre is a whirring machine projecting stars into the sky: six of them, all a unique colour, that spin around like a merry-go-round. The rest of the room is cloaked in darkness.

"Ignis," Ryouken says.

Yuusaku expected something ... different. More. An ignis seemed like a foreign creation or a program to embed in your duel disk; no doubt there's coding somewhere, but the stars on the ceiling hardly seem like artificial intelligences. They look like they belong on Stardust Road.

Carefully, they step into the room. Yuusaku braces himself for an electric shock, or for someone to leap around the corner and say they caught them. This shouldn't have worked out. This shouldn't be a successful mission. And yet he and Ryouken make it to the centre of the room and stand before the projection machine. On its surface is the coding, reminiscent of when he and Kusanagi hacked into Link Vrains, or when he and Ryouken hacked into the home page of SOL Technologies. Same binaries, same alphabet and letters—it brings him back to his first day at work experience.

"You have the shutdown code, don't you?"

He reaches into his pocket. He made this. He successfully finished a project without working himself to death—barely—and by applying himself. Over the machine, Ryouken's glowing face wears a soft smile, not like his usual smirks. He looks truly happy.

_ Thank you,  _ Yuusaku wants to say, but he holds his tongue. He'll save it for another day.

When he slips the programming in, he expects the room to explode, for an error message to appear across the screen. He expects failure to blare in his face, and judging by Ryouken's trembling lower lip, he must think the same too. But all that happens are the lights disappear from the room, one after the other, until they stand in darkness.

"We should go," Ryouken says after a minute. "SOL Technologies will be coming down here to investigate, and we can't teleport until we get back to the tunnel."

Blearily, Yuusaku nods his head.

"I'm taking your hand—"

Fingers thread into his own. The first contact causes him to stiffen, but then he settles. Even when the lights momentarily flicker, he doesn't let go or flinch. He holds the steady hand as they head out of the underbelly of SOL Technologies. When they make it to the door and back to their boards, he longs to hold onto Ryouken for a bit longer.

"We shouldn't split up," Ryouken says. He pushes up the corner of his mouth into a smirk, and Yuusaku ducks his head down into a blush.

"Sure," he says, and climbs onto Ryouken's D-Board. Unlike his own, it feels sturdier somehow, but no less aerodynamic, he realises, as they jet through the sky and spin round and round, up over the labyrinth and out towards the exit. Even with two of them on the board, their speed never reduces. His feet find stable footholds in the metal. Standing behind Ryouken, he crouches and braces himself with a hand on the small of Ryouken's back. When Ryouken turns, he follows.

When they break out of the maze, Yuusaku doesn't realise it: he's too focused on the sight of Ryouken's red hair in the breeze.

He pulls the D-Board off to the side. Above them blink the lights of the tunnel.

"Bet they're coming down soon," Ryouken says.

"This seems too easy ..." Yuusaku mutters.

Ryouken's laugh echoes through the cavern; anyone coming down will surely know they're there, even if they can't see them on the cameras.

"Did this have to be so hard? Cut yourself some slack. You worked hard. Now ... see you on the other side, Yuusaku. It's time to return home."

His fingers ghost over the home button. The last step.

He glances up at Ryouken, still smiling or smirking or whatever at him.

He looks happy, and that's what matters.

"Good job."

Yuusaku presses the button. The world blips closed on him like a faulty computer program, and then he's back at home, seated against the metal railing of his bed frame. Ryouken sits next to him, running his fingers through his hair. he looks like he's run a marathon; Yuusaku himself feels like it. His skin is itchy and sweaty, and his hair sticks to his forehead. Is there some physical exertion transfer from being in Link Vrains?

Carefully he opens his duel disk. Everything is still there: his avatar and deck, his settings; nothing has changed, at least not for him. In the corner of his screen is a message from one of his classmates who also duels actively in Link Vrains. The message reads in large, block letters:

LINK VRAINS IS DOWN OH NOOOOOOOOOES.

Ryouken laughs outright. "Quite the friend you have there."

"Quite the friend indeed."

In the corner of Ryouken's duel disk is a message too, this one from Taki. Though split into various sections and interspersed with emojis, it reads much more formally than Naoki's panicking.

_ Judging by the state of Link Vrains and the panic I can hear coming from SOL Technologies, your mission was successful. Congratulations!! You both worked hard. I'll have to give you a raise, Ryouken; and to Yuusaku, who I bet is reading this too, I'll be sure to have a present for you tomorrow. Be excited! _

_ Will I have to find more work for you two to do now? Most likely. Don’t get comfortable just yet. But stop by the lab later on for some last-minute work. _

_ Truly, _

_ Dr. Taki _

Ryouken closes the message with a soft  _ blip!  _ “Endless paperwork,” he mutters, stretching his arms above his head. Bones creak and crack like rusty engine cogs. Yet when he moves, he glides up onto his feet, then reaches a single hand down, fingers spread. 

Yuusaku stares at it like Ryouken’s grown a second appendage.

“A hand.” Ryouken wriggles his fingers once. 

Slowly, Yuusaku takes it, clamps his fingers round the extended hand. The contact reminds him of all the times they’ve held hands before; warmth fills his chest. His heart aches as he has to let go and wind his scarf round his neck and pluck his hat onto his head. Then he reaches his hand out again, fingers curled as if unsure whether he should be holding hands again, whether that’s overstepping a boundary—

“Thanks,” Ryouken says, taking his hand in his own.

The first step out of his apartment crushes the air from his lungs, frosty and cold. Sun beats down on his pale face. But through the cold, he feels the hand in his own. Contact. Trust. 

With his head held high, he heads back to Ryouken’s place, to the Knights of Hanoi headquarters, and all along the trip, he sees the stars twinkling over his head like diamonds. They never fade nor dim, only growing brighter the closer he walks to the house. Sparkles catch in Ryouken’s pale, silver hair. Gently, Yuusaku brings a hand to his own hair.

Glowing.

He’s glowing too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap! thank you very much to everyone who's read! if you'd like, leave a comment -- but your views and kudos alone make me very happy! cheers!


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